Thieves and Secrets
by bellabug
Summary: Another take on how Grissom and Sara could be 'outed'. This is my first fanfic, so be gentle.
1. Chapter 1

_Vivisection._ After hours spent trying to pinpoint the word to best describe his afternoon on the stand he finally had it. In a desperate attempt to create reasonable doubt, the defense had waged a merciless attack not on the evidence of the case on trial, but on the investigator responsible for its identification and analysis. Every mistake he had ever made, professional and in some cases otherwise, since he was a CSI level one over 25 years earlier, had been paraded in front of the jury in an attempt to taint his reputation, leaving him feeling completely and utterly drained. All he wanted to do was go home and collapse, surrender to unconsciousness until shift began and he could once again throw himself into the realm of the tangible and absolute, into the science for which 'reasonable doubt' and degrees of truth were foreign concepts.

Summoning what little energy he could, he headed toward the Denali and dragged his weary body behind the wheel. As he drove, he found himself wondering whether or not Sara would be there when he arrived. He hadn't spoken to her since before he left for court, so had no idea of how her case was coming along, or how much overtime it was likely to demand, but be could hope… In the two years they had been together, they had had perhaps more than their share of arguments, but despite the occasional animosity, neither had ever doubted that what they had together was meant to last.

"Damn" he breathed on a sigh as he approached to townhouse they shared, noting Sara's car was nowhere in sight. Deciding if he couldn't have Sara, he would just have to settle for a long, hot shower to work the tension out of his tired muscles, he slipped his key into the lock and froze. Suddenly alert, he catalogued the scratches around the lock and gently tested the handle. Noiselessly the door swung open and the sight before him stole the breath from his body: overturned furniture and broken picture frames littered the room; a small fortune worth of r are and precious specimens lay damaged beyond repair; and, the impressive array of electrical equipment that had once stood in the corner was nowhere in sight. Whilst the house now seemed quiet, and he doubted that whoever had done this remained inside, he backed away a safe distance from the door and pulled out his phone to call it in. Half-way through dialing he was suddenly struck with a realization that made the trauma of the cross-examination and finding his house ransacked seem like a pleasant morning in the park. How are they ever going to keep their relationship secret now?

Sitting in the break room, thumbing through a journal she had read a dozen times before, Sara silently willed time to speed up. She had been assigned a 419 on the strip at the beginning of shift, and after 12 hours of processing the scene and working the evidence, had found that one little detail that had nailed the suspect. That was two hours ago, and the adrenaline had long worn off, caffeine less and less able to fill the void it left behind.

"Hey. What are you still doing here?" asked Nick from the doorway. "I thought you closed your case hours ago."

"I did, but our beloved Lab Director put a rush on some fibers from the dayshift, bumping the last of my stuff in the process. As soon as Hodges pages me that he's done and I can log the evidence into storage, I'm out of here."

Moving to the coffee pot and eyeing the contents with suspicion, Nick asked, "You want some company? Warrick left already, but I am happy to entertain you for a while."

"No thanks, Nicky. You've been here longer than I have. Go home and get some sleep."

"Okay, if you insists", he sighed out gratefully in response.

"Hey, Nick? Thanks for the offer, though."

"Anytime, Sara. Anytime"

When his retreating figure was finally out of sight, Sara's eyes moved back to the clock on the wall, noting that only minutes had passed. Discarding the journal, she decided to fill her time thinking of the most painful ways she could rid herself and the lab of Ecklie once and for all.

Unsure of exactly how much time had passed, Grissom glanced at his watch and galvanized himself into action. Waving only for a moment, he pulled out his phone and started dialing; Brass first, then Warrick, Nick and Greg. In a selfish attempt to postpone having to deal with Catherine's anger once she learned the secrets the townhouse would tell of his and Sara's life together, he decided to let her be, knowing full-well that he would pay dearly for the decision in the days to come.

The conversations all followed the same basic pattern: awkward greeting, followed by cryptic request, met with the inevitable confusion, and finally agreement. Graveyard had ended over six hours earlier, and he regretted having to call them in when they should, by all rights, be indulging in some much-needed sleep, but he needed a team he could trust.

"Now for the hard part," he said aloud to the empty space before him, before dialing one last time.


	2. Chapter 2

After what seemed like an eternity, her pager finally erupted. Fuelled by the though that she would soon be heading home and into the arms of the man she loved, she practically leapt from the couch and set a quick pace down the hallway. Bursting into Trace, Sara hardly heard Hodges' greeting, choosing only to engage with the most essential information.

"So, basically, nothing we didn't know before," she huffed, exasperated at the time she had been forced to waste.

"Well, aren't we in a mood? There is no need to be like about it. You knew what to expect", came the reply, in a tone that would put even the most petulant child to shame.

"Sorry. I just really want to go home." Bundling the evidence to carry it down to storage, Sara smiled at the pouting lab tech before escaping as graciously as possible.

Approaching her Denali minutes later, Sara's phone began to ring. Fully prepared to reject any work-related call at this point, she glanced at the screen and smiled at the number it displayed.

"Hey, stranger. I'm just on my way home now. How was court?"

"Milk and cookies compared to what I found when I got home. Sara, honey, we've been robbed." Suddenly glad she was not yet in traffic, Sara pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it, attempting to process the information she had just been given.

After a moment of silence, Grissom spoke. "Sara? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, uh, yeah, I'm still here. Did you just say we were robbed?"

"Pretty much, yeah" Grissom replied, sounding every bit as exhausted as he felt.

"Have you called it…" Trailing off, Sara began to feel genuinely nauseous as panic set it. "Oh my God, Griss, it's the middle of the day! Ecklie's people are catching cases! How are we…? What are we…? We are going to lose our jobs!" Slightly hysterical at this point, Sara again pulled the phone away and took a moment to calm herself. When she again returned to the conversation, she realized Grissom had been talking the whole time.

"Sorry, babe, I missed all of that. I just needed a minute."

Pulling out into traffic, she listened as Grissom told her of calling in the four men.

"I haven't told them what's going on yet. I figured that was probably best done in person," he finished.

"Okay. I'll be there in about 20, I guess. See you soon… Oh, and Griss?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you." She could hear his sigh down the line and her heart went out to him.

"I love you, too, Sara. More than you know. See you soon."

Not long after ending his conversation with Sara, Grissom saw Nick's truck pull in to park. Nothing the look of complete confusion on his face as he climbed down from the driver's seat, he was bout to launch into an explanation when Warrick and Brass showed up, one behind the other. Brass, true to form, was the first to speak.

"Hey, man. What's going on here? Suddenly feel the need for a male bonding session?"

Standing in his now crumpled suit, with arms crossed and staring at the ground, Grissom muttered, "Not quite, Jim. Um, look, Greg is on his way, and I'd prefer to only have to do this once. I'll explain everything when he gets here."

After a painfully long silence, Grissom again spoke, inquiring after the previous night's cases. Before anyone could respond, Greg pulled in, music blaring, and parked beside Nick.

"What's going on?" he asked as he approached the group.

"We're about to find out, Greg. Grissom wanted to wait for you to explain."

"Awww, I feel so loved" joked Greg, before registering from the look on Grissom's face that this was clearly no laughing matter.

Taking a deep breath, Grissom began. "Look, I have had an incredibly bad do, so I'm just going to be blunt. I've been robbed. I came home from court this morning to find the front door had been forced and what little I could see of the house was trashed. I'm sorry to call you all out at this time of day, but this is my house, my life, and I need people I can trust." Stopping to gauge the impact of his words, Grissom looked from one face to another, noting the progression from confusion and shock to grim determination with a strange sense of pride.

"Did you go in?" asked Warrick after a moment had passed.

"No. When I saw the signs of forced entry I tried the handle with my sleeve and pushed the door open, but I didn't enter or touch anything. I haven't seen beyond the front room, but given the state it's in, I don't hold out much hope for the rest of the house."

"Okay, boss. You can trust us. We'll get whoever it is. That's a promise." stated Nick, his confident tone doing much to sooth Grissom's frayed nerves. As the men headed off towards the house, and Brass pulled his gun and prepared to clear the scene, Grissom called after them.

"Guys, there's one more thing. The reason why I could let anyone else process the house… the reason I needed you… is…" Struggling to find the words he needed, the others waited patiently, not wanting to make things any worse for their friend and mentor. Finally, after considerable thought, Grissom simply turned to them and said, "I don't live alone."


	3. Chapter 3

Shock – the kind of shock people are hospitalized for – flooded the group. Eventually realizing that they were not going to get any more information, they set to work. After a quick sweep, Brass declared the house empty, and left the three investigators to begin to work inside the house.

As soon as they were safely inside and out of earshot, Greg turned to the others and said, "Did he just say what I think he said? Grissom _lives_ with someone?"

"Yeah, I guess…" replied Warrick, trailing off as he took in the damage. "Yikes, look at this place."

"Okay, guys, lets get going. Warrick, you and Greg start down here. I'll check the perimeter before heading upstairs. We gotta do this right." After only a few steps back towards the door, Nick stopped cold as Greg began to talk again.

"Yeah, we're on it Nick. But who do you think it is? That dominatrix – Heather something – from a few years ago? Grissom always was a little str-"

Nick cut him off mid-sentence, his usually jovial southern drawl transformed into a menacing whisper. "Grissom has done a lot for all of us, Greg. None of us, and I mean none of us, would be here without him. If he wants to keep his private life private then we will respect that. Am I clear?"

Feeling suitably chastised, Greg hung his head, muttered a quiet, "Yeah… sorry" and got to work.

Outside, as Grissom was drawing to the end of his description of what happened with Brass, he suddenly fell silent. Sensing his friends need for space, the detective business himself with his notes. When the entomologist spoke again, it was in a voice so quiet that one could easily miss it if not listening keenly.

"This could get bad, you know."

Looking up in surprise, Brass was rendered temporarily speechless by the haunted expression plastered across his friend's face.

"Gil, look, we'll catch the guys. You got some of the best CSIs in the country in there. CSIs you trained!" Noting that his little speck had done little to help, he added, "It's just stuff. Insurance will cover the damage. It's not like anyone was hurt, after all."

"Yet," came the reply. Looking into the distance, Grissom continued quietly. "We could lose everything, our jobs, our reputations… No one has been hurt _yet_, Jim."

Preempting any further reply, Grissom's tone changed quickly, along with the subject at hand. "Do you have everything you need?"

"Yeah. I'll head back to the station and start typing up a draft of your statement. We can go over it again later when we have a better idea of what is missing, and then all you have to do is sign it."

"No problem. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Gil," Brass said quickly, before he had the chance to step away, "this… person you are living with… um… do they know about this?"

"Yeah, she knows. I called her after I called you guys. She's on her way."

"Okay. I'll probably have to talk to her later. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, Jim, I know."

It was said with such an air of finality that the Detective decided to forego any further questioning until later. Still confused, and more than a little concerned, he headed towards his car. Closing the door, he glanced back and noticed that his friend had not moved so much as an inch from the spot where he had left him. Unable to decide if the entomologist appeared lost in thought, or just plain lost, Brass pulled away from the curb and into the distance.

Pulling into one of the last empty spaces on their normally quiet street, Sara shut off the engine and sat in silence for a moment. After a string of emotional outbursts, culminating in a now infamous 'almost-DUI', she had been forced to see a PEAP counselor. Resistant at first, she had eventually come to view her sessions as invaluable. The single greatest tool she had taken away from them had been a method of self-analysis that allowed her to avoid being completely overwhelmed by her emotions. If she was able to objectively identify and name her feelings, she could compartmentalize and deal with each separately and effectively, without ever relinquishing control. After almost five minutes, Sara found herself genuinely surprised at the results. Yes, she felt apprehension and fear, but mostly she felt a tremendous sense of calm.

Unable to wait any longer to see the damage done to newly-violated sanctuary, Sara exited the Denali and headed toward the house. The moment she saw him, standing alone on the driveway, with his tired eyes and wrinkled suit, she realized why she felt so calm. Her home was not this house, her life not the things within it. Her home was in him, her life with him, and as long as he was here with her, her sanctuary remained untouched.

"Hey, stranger" she said for the second time that day. When he heard her voice, his world seemed to focus. Turning towards her, he wordlessly pulled her into an all-consuming embrace. She could feel the tension leave his body as they stood with their arms around one another for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually, he pulled back far enough to look at her, nearly drowning in her warm brown eyes.

"Hey, stranger", he said on a smile.

"So, we've been robbed, huh? How bad is it?"

"It's not good. As far as I could see, the tv, stereo and all the electrical equipment is gone, and everything else has just been trashed. That was from the front door. I didn't go upstairs, so I don't know about the state of the bedroom or the study."

Letting out a breath as she let this new information sink in, she wondered aloud, "Where are we going to sleep?"

Hearing a soft chuckle escape his chest she shot him a mock-annoyed look and lightly punched his arm.

"God, I love you, Sara. I can't imagine life without you." With that he released her waist and brought his hands up to lovingly cup her face before leaning down and kissing her with more tenderness, care and compassion that she had ever felt before.

"You go check out the house, and I'll make reservations at the Bellagio" he said before pulling away and grabbing his phone off his belt.

After taking a few steps in the direction of the front door, she turned back and walked over to his side again. "Griss? What exactly did you tell them about us?"

Shooting her a crooked smile, he replied with a note of playfulness in his voice. "I was very cryptic, not least because I had no idea what to say." He paused to wink at her before continuing. "All I said was, 'I don't live alone'. They are the investigators. Let's see what they do with that, shall we?"

"Trouble-maker" she whispered, leaning into his ear. Hearing his breath catch in his throat, she headed back towards the house. Just as she was about to push open the door she saw Nick round the side of the house.

"Keeping me company, after all, it seems."

"Hey, Sara. You got called in, too, huh? Well, I've just finished the perimeter, but we could sure use your help inside. They did a real number on this place. Warrick and Greg have started downstairs, so if you want to take the bed-" Suddenly he stopped talking and looked at her with something suspiciously like pity. "I'm sorry, Sara. I can't believe he called you out. Look, we can handle it here. Go home, get some sleep." Her face must have given away her confusion, because the next thing she knew the gentle Texan had placed his hand on her elbow and was guiding her away from the door towards the bushes lining the drive.

Glancing quickly over to make sure Grissom wasn't in earshot, he gently began to talk again. "Sara, when the guys and I first got here and he told us about the robbery, he also told us that… God, I am so sorry, but he told us that he doesn't live alone." Seeing that his words hadn't quite had the impact he expected, he felt the need to clarify. "He's involved with someone – seriously involved – and, well, I know that you have had… feelings… for him in the past, and if you can't… I mean if you don't…" Letting out an exasperated sigh, he took a moment to compose himself before saying with conviction, "You don't have to do this if you don't want to".

Tear, anger maybe. That is no doubt what he expected, so when Sara was unable to hold back her gentle laugh his surprise was understandable.

"Sara, you do understand what I'm telling you, right?"

"Oh, Nicky. I'm not here to process the scene."

Smiling at him, she leaned in to quickly kiss his cheek before turning back towards the house and disappearing through the door.

"Bellagio Hotel and Casino. This is Miranda speaking. How may I help you?"

"Yes, hello. I was wanting to book a room."

"Certainly, sir. When would you like to make your booking for?"

"Check-in as soon as possible today, with a flexible check-out date sometime in the next five days. Is that possible?"

"One moment please…"

As the clerk checked for vacant rooms on the other end of the line, Grissom took the opportunity to divest himself of his suit coat and tie, and loosen the top few buttons of his dress shirt. It was amazing how much better he had felt the moment he had laid eyes on her. His aching muscles seemed soothed, his tired eyes rested. She was like a drug.

"Sir? That shouldn't be a problem. I just need a name for the reservation."

"Grissom."

"Thankyou, sir. I hope you enjoy your stay."

Ringing off, Grissom set off again in the direction of the front door when his phone burst to life in his hand. Distracted by thoughts of how Sara was coping with the sight of their home in shambles, he automatically brought the hone to his ear and answered.

"Grissom" When the person on the other end of the line replied, the entomologist felt his blood run cold.

"Gil. I just heard about your house. Terrible business. Don't worry, though. I've got people heading out there as we speak."

Unable to fathom how the information had gotten to Ecklie so quickly, he struggled of a moment to reply. "Whilst the offer is appreciated, Conrad, it is really not necessary. I have most of my team out here already processing. We have it covered."

"No, Gil. Your people do NOT have it covered. We can't afford any appearance of impropriety or conflict of interest if and when this case is brought to trial, now, can we? You tell your team to back off immediately or there will be consequences." Pausing for a moment to replace the false comradery that had slipped from his tone, he continued. "Forgive me, Gil, but I have to ask. Why did you call in your team? They have been working all night. They are no doubt exhausted. Is it just that you don't trust my guys, or do you have something to hide?"


	4. Chapter 4

Stepping across the threshold, Sara cast her eyes across her once immaculate living room and into her kitchen, immensely grateful that Grissom had prepared her for the sight.

"Hey, Sara. Not pretty, is it?" said Warrick, following her line of sight.

Without replying, she began to navigate around the debris, careful not to damage or destroy any potential evidence. After a moment she was pulled from her examination by the sound of Greg's voice a few feet to her left.

"Sara? Are you alright?"

Looking up into his concerned face, Sara smiled briefly and did her best to keep her eyes from betraying her. "I'm fine. Have you seen the rest of the house, yet?"

"No, but when Brass cleared the place he said that his room is pretty much par for the course." Turning back to work, Warrick continued, "We're still going to be a while don here, but Nick should be done outside any minute if you want to start upstairs."

Greg, who had been watching Sara closely, it seemed, since she first walked into the room, walked across to stand beside her before noting, "She can't start upstairs, Warrick, because she doesn't have her kit." Surprised, Warrick again turned away from his work, this time to scrutinize her appearance more closely than before. Reveling in the fact that he had picked up on something the older, and more experienced, CSI had missed, the ex-lab tech continued. "You're not here to process the scene, are you Sara?"

Smiling to herself that her very own protégé was the first of the three to connect the dots, she opened her mouth to explain, but was cut off before she had a chance. Growing increasingly animated, Greg winked and said in a near-conspiratorial whisper, "I understand. Your secret is safe with me. You're here to snoop, to get a sneak peek behind the scenes. It's like one of those documentaries where they show you how the magician makes the elephant disappear, or something. Personally, I can't wait to get upstairs. You want to know what makes a person tick, you go straight to their bedroom. Twenty bucks says there is something kinky hidden below the mattress."

The young investigator had gotten so involved with his rant that he had failed to note the rapidly shifting demeanor of his audience. As he went on, Sara felt the bile rising in her throat. When he finally paused for breath, she spat out angrily, "This is fun for you, Greg? Fodder for gossip? Oh, you are going to be a very popular member of the grape vine tomorrow, aren't you?" Taken aback by the venom in her tone, Greg stumbled over his words in vain attempt to offer an apology.

Meanwhile, just outside the door, Nick had finally managed to piece everything together. Or at least he thought he had. Entering the room with purpose, he managed to save Greg from further embarrassment with a single pointed question.

"If not to process the scene, Sara, why exactly are you here?"

As Sara turned and locked eyes with Nick, the anticipation that filled the room made the air grow heavy. Armed with the knowledge that her reply to his question could and would change her life as she knew it forever, she took her time formulating an answer. Just as she was about to speak, she heard Grissom's voice from the doorway.

"Okay, well, we're screwed." Immediately, four pairs of eyes locked onto his form lounging casually against the doorframe. After a moment he stood and began maneuvering around the debris to head in the direction of the kitchen. "Guys, thanks for coming, but it seems as though Ecklie has it covered."

Completely ignoring the three other men in the room, Sara stared at her lover in disbelief. "What? How the hell did he find out so quickly?"

Rummaging around in search of unbroken glasses, with what appeared to be a complete disregard for whatever evidence he may compromise in the process, Grissom finally found a stash that had survived hiding in the dishwasher. Pulling a bottle of Vodka from the freezer, he replied playfully, "I don't know, but I am not ruling out a pact with the devil."

"Boss, are you feeling okay?" asked Nick warily. He had never seen Grissom act this way before. Gone was the serious and logical man, able to quote verbatim the work of any number of poets and scholars. In his place… how did he even describe it?

Sara, on the other hand, recognized this man in an instant. This was what she had taken to calling "indoor Grissom" – the man he was when they were away from prying eyes and office politics. If he was out to play, that meant that all hope was lost, Ecklie either already knew, or was about to know, everything, and there was no use in fighting it. Resigning herself to her fate, she took the glass proffered and went to perch on the kitchen counter. "So, Ecklie is sending dayshift out, is he?"

Righting one of the overturned dining chairs, Grissom sat and said, "Yep" before raising his glass in a toast. "Cheers, Sara."

"Cheers"

"What the hell is going on?" cried Greg from his corner of the room, his eyes pleading for an explanation.

Completely ignoring him, Grissom and Sara continued their conversation with each other as though alone in the room. "Well, Griss, the way I see it, we have two options."

"Okay, shoot."

"Option number one: we go through the house and remove all evidence of our relationship outside of work, and then just sit back and let dayshift do their thing and hope for the best."

"A couple of holes in that plan, honey. Firstly, I'm fairly sure that our loving lab director would construe that as tampering with evidence; and, secondly, when he called me before he said people were already on the way. There is no way we could hunt around and find twelve years worth of incriminating evidence in time, given that with the state of the house at the moment I am currently having issues locating the back door."

At this point the three CSIs could not hold back any longer. "TWELVE YEARS!" they cried in near-unison.

Still unfazed, Grissom turned to the men and said lazily, "Well, it depends on how you look at it, really. Sara and I have always been more than friends."

Moving to refill their empty glasses, Sara could see that Grissom's somewhat vague explanation hadn't clarified thing much. "Guys, we have always been involved on one level or another, but we didn't actually start seeing each other in earnest until two years ago. We went on our first real date a few weeks after Adam decided to get up-close and personal with me in that psychiatric ward."

His expression darkening with the memory for a moment, and he felt an uncontrollable need to feel her in his arms, to reassure himself that she was safe and well and there with him. Pulling her gently down onto his lap, he said, "What's option two?"

Delighting in the feel of his arms around her, she forgot for a moment what he was talking about. "What do you mean?"

"You said that the way you saw it we had two options. Option one was hiding the evidence. What's option two?"

Putting on her most serious expression she raised her head from his shoulder, looked him straight in the eye and said, "We change our names, move to Greenland and become Dental Assistants". After a moments delay, they both simultaneously burst into laughter, and Grissom hugged her closer.

"Well, at least now we have a plan."

With a quiet fury Warrick broke the ensuing silence, his tone so cold it sent chills through the room. "Why are we here, Grissom? An hour ago you said it was because you trusted us, and I just don't believe that anymore. So tell me, really, why are we here?"

"Everything I said earlier I meant, Warrick. I called you tonight because I trust you implicitly." Although his words were said with genuine sincerity, it was clear the Warrick men did not believe a word.

"Bull! If you trusted us you wouldn't have kept this from us. Ecklie, I understand, but us? I thought we were family, man… I guess I as wrong." With that, he gathered his ket and walked out, without once looking back.

After a moment of emotionally charged silence, Nick and Greg moved to follow his example. With Grissom seemingly unable to speak, Sara took it upon herself to attempt an explanation. Quietly, and with her eyes to the ground, she spoke.

"We had our reasons, guys. We were trying to protect you."

"Protect us? From what? The awkward tension? The arguments? The months on end spent ignoring on another? The constant wondering whether or not one or both of you would still be in Vegas in a weeks time? Oh, wait. That – _that – _you shared. So, I ask again, protect us from what?" As Nick spoke, chills shot down Sara's spine. It wasn't his words that affected her so, but his tone; his voice held no anger, just exhaustion, defeat and, ultimately, disappointment.

"You don't understand. Ecklie-"

"Save it, Sara. I don't know if Warrick was right or not. You may trust us. I don't know. But I don't trust you."

As she watched them walk out of her house, and possibly – probably – her life, Sara felt her body melt further into Grissom's arms, drawing what comfort she could from the knowledge that, even if they lost everything else, they still had each other.

Alone and surrounded by the ruins of their home, their life, neither seemed to notice the passage of time, before they were jerked violently from their reverie by the scheming voice of Conrad Ecklie himself.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? It seems you did have something to hide, after all, Grissom." Turning abruptly to delegate tasks to his team, he spoke over his shoulder. "My office, 9.00am tomorrow. I think we need to have a little chat regarding your futures at the lab."

As the anger built inside of him, Grissom felt his voice return. "Why wait, Conrad? Tell your people to keep an eye out when they are processing my office for a green file folder labeled 'Resignations'. I think you'll find everything you need in there."

Nudging Sara gently they both rose to leave. As she neared the door, Sara called back in a tone laced with all the hatred she felt, "Congratulations. You won."


	5. Chapter 5

After driving aimlessly for the better part of an hour, basking in a heady mix of emotions only fuelled by their silence, Grissom abruptly pulled to the side of the road and shut off the engine. He wanted to reach out and touch her, hug her, tell her how sorry he was, but he had a sinking feeling that it may all be in vain; after all, he had just effectively fired her. He had offered Ecklie both of their resignations without thinking, stolen control of her life out from under her, and he wasn't sure she would be willing or able to forgive him.

"Sara…" That was all he could manage to say. All of the eloquent words floating around his head just wouldn't make themselves heard. His tongue, it seemed, was on strike. Knowing full-well that these truncated sentences that plagued him in times of great stress or fear were the bain of Sara's very existence, he forced himself to pull his eyes from the steering wheel and face her. He turned just in time to see her hand reach out and pinch his arm with force.

"Damn it, Sara! I know you are angry, but pinching me? That was just uncalled for."

At the sight of her fifty-year old lover rubbing his arm and pouting, Sara couldn't keep herself from laughing. "Poor baby. I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure this all wasn't some crazy dream."

"So you pinched me? You know, you are supposed to pinch yourself to wake up from a dream."

"I know" she said sweetly on a smile. After a brief pause, the smile faded and she asked quietly, "Did that really just happen, Griss? Did we really just resign?"

Choosing to take her use of the term '_we_' as a good sign, he tentatively reached out to take her hand in his own, and brought it to his lips. Kissing the underside of her wrist, he said, "I think so."

"What do we do now? Because, you know I was only kidding about that whole Greenland thing."

Despite her conscious attempt to lighten the mood, when Grissom's only reply was a smile, she began to get frustrated. "Seriously though, what are we going to do." When nothing changed, she moved from frustrated to just plain angry, "What are you smiling at exactly? Our jobs, or careers, our friends, our whole lives are… well, who knows what they are… and you are SMILING!"

Without changing his expression in the least, he replied slowly, "Sorry. It's only that it hits me sometimes, all at once, just how much I really do love you, and everything else seems unimportant for a minute or two."

Her frustration and anger instantly gone, she unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed gracefully across the center console and into his lap. Resting her head in the crook of his neck, she said lovingly, "I hate that I can't hate you."

Grinning like a fool, he wrapped his arms around her and, holding her tight, said with mock sincerity, "Really? Because I rather think it works out well."

Dissolving in a fit of laughter that proved to be more emotional catharsis than genuine amusement, they simply sat in their car at the side of the road, wrapped securely in one another's arms, and watched the sun make its way slowly across the sky.

After nearly two hours, Grissom turned his head and kissed Sara's cheek before forcing himself back into reality. "Hey. You know, we should probably go and clean out or lockers and my office at some point."

"Yeah. Probably." Reluctantly moving back to the passenger seat, she buckled herself in again and waited for the car to start. After a moment, she turned to see what the delay was and found Grissom staring in her direction with a distant look in his eye. "Griss? Are you okay?"

Snapping into focus, he began to speak slowly and deliberately. "You know, when the Sheriff hears about this his is not going to be happy."

Confused, Sara interjected, "Grissom, we have already lost our jobs. What is the worst he can do?"

"I don't mean about the fact that you and I are seeing each other, but the fact that in one fell swoop he lost two senior CSIs from a shift and a lab that are both overworked and understaffed, not to mention the fact that one of those CSIs just happens to be the lab's nominee on a rather large grant to be awarded later this month." His brain kept working as his mouth fell silent to allow the full implication of his words to sink in. When Sara finally spoke, he thought he had a pretty good plan.

"You mean… Wait, are you saying we could have our jobs back if we wanted them?"

"Maybe. I mean, my leaving is going to cost the lab a lot of money, and the Sheriff a healthy dose of good publicity. It wouldn't be too hard to arrange a meeting with him to explain the situation, and tell him in no uncertain terms that if he wants me back, he will have to reinstate you, too." His confidence in the plan faded slightly when he saw the look on her face. He had expected happy, joyous, excited, and maybe even a little proud. What he hadn't expected was the air of solemn contemplation that filled the tiny space. Confused, he felt the need to add quickly, "That is, if that is what you want to do."

"You know, I came to Vegas for you, and, at first, I stayed in Vegas for you. But after a while, I began to stay in Vegas for me. I had a home her, and a family. The guys, they were my family. Then when we… Well, my life was a close to perfect as I've ever known…" Trailing off, she took the opportunity to wipe the solitary, silent tear that had trailed down her cheek away, before continuing, her voice now infused with stubborn determination. "Warrick, Nick and Greg, they all feel so betrayed. We hurt them so badly I'm sure they would never be able to trust us again. They may even hate us. The damage… I'm not sure it can ever be fixed. Last night, my house was trashed, my family destroyed… Let's go and collect our things, Grissom. Our perfect life here is over. We can go and build a new perfect life somewhere else."

Unable to resist, he leaned across and snatched her lips with his own in a kiss filled with such passion and love that it would have crushed a lesser man. When the need for oxygen grew too strong to be ignored, they broke apart and headed in the direction of the lab. Eventually parking in his usual spot, Grissom turned to the woman he knew unequivocally to be the love of his life one last time before stepping out. "Are you sure about this, honey? It's not too late to change your mind."

Unbuckling her seatbelt and opening the passenger side door, she replied simply, "Boxes. We're going to need boxes."

_TBC…_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Apologies if this chapter is somewhat ordinary. I was really stuck for a while, so when I finally hobbled something together I just decided to post it and move on. Hopefully nobody will find it too painful... On a happier note, thankyou all so much for your reviews, and especially for your Private Messages (Ruth in particular). I've never been so anxious to check my email in the morning in all my life! _

As they passed through reception and into the restricted area of the lab itself, the sheer enormity of their situation began to sink in. Stopping in his tracks, Grissom reached out and grabbed Sara's hand, pulling her back to face him.

"Hey", he said quietly as he cupped her face gently, his thumb tenderly stroking the apple of her cheek.

"Hey"

"How about you go and empty the lockers while I make a start in the office."

Reaching up to cover his hand with her own, their eyes locked. "Griss, are you okay? I know I said this is what I want, but if you-"

Cutting her off, Grissom hurried to reassure her. "Shhh. You were right. For everything there is a time and a place, and perhaps our time here is over. It's just… well…"

Temporarily unable to find the words he needed, he stepped forward, closing the gap between them, and kissed her. It was not a spectacularly passionate kiss – rather it was soft and kind, like thousands of others before it in their time together – but both knew it would be one they would never forget. From the beginning there existed a tacit agreement between them that no matter what they were going through in their private lives together, the moment they stepped through the doors of the lab they would cease to be lovers and exist only as colleagues. The closest they came to affection within these glass walls was the occasional fleeting touch or lingering stare. But with this one simple, elegant kiss he had announced their relationship to the world. He had proclaimed that theirs was no illicit affair, but a meaningful commitment. He had made them 'official'.

Pulling away, he looked into her eyes and winked, the crooked half-smile that she loved so dearly breaking across his face. "I should call Catherine, Sara. I don't know why, exactly, but I _need_ her to understand. We've known each other for so long… I can't leave without explaining why."

Signalling her understanding with a silent nod, she headed off in the direction of the locker room. As soon as she had disappeared around the corner, he began to make his way towards his office. Drawing closer, he found himself listening for the familiar sounds of his team in the halls, and was struck with an intense sense of loss when greeted only with hollow silence. Crossing the threshold, he took a moment to scan the room, committing each tiny detail to memory, before settling himself behind his desk one last time. Lifting the phone from his desk he began to dial, only to replace it again and pull the cell phone from his belt – this was not a conversation he wanted to take place on an office phone; it was far too personal.

After one ring, two, three, a sleep-laden voice came floating down the line. "Willows."

"Hello, Catherine. It's… um, it's me. Grissom." _Stumbling over your words already_, he thought. _Why didn't you just leave her a note?_

"Grissom? What time is it? Don't tell me we have a scene. Shouldn't swing shift be catching?"

"No, Catherine. I'm not calling about work… Well, actually, I guess I am. I should say I'm not calling about a scene." As he heard the words coming out of his mouth, he was amazed. His whole world had shifted on his axis, and yet his voice sounded exactly the same.

At the other end of the line, now thoroughly confused, Catherine paused a moment before replying, the silence long enough to clear any last hint of sleep from her voice. "Gil, what are you talking about?"

Steeling himself, Grissom sat straight and spoke in tone equal parts determination, exhaustion, resignation and relief. "Look, I am going to explain everything, but first I need you to promise me something."

"You're scaring me a little, here. Just tell me what's going on? Was someone hurt?"

"Catherine, I need you to promise me that you will let me say everything I need to say without interrupting. This conversation isn't exactly going to be easy for me, and you are most likely going to be angry, or upset, or both, and I don't need any excuse to… well…" Sighing loudly and placing his left hand over his eyes he continued. "You know what I mean. Can you do that? Can you promise me that?"

"Sure…"

"I'm serious, Catherine."

"I am, too. I promise. I won't interrupt. Now, tell me what the hell is going on."

She was greeted a silence that seemed to drag on for hours, and then just when she though the line must have dropped out, he began to speak. When she heard what he had to say, she almost missed the quiet.

"Effective immediately you will be the new supervisor of graveyard. I quit."

"What?! Gil, are you-"

Cutting her off, his voice betrayed his frustration. "You promised, Catherine. Now let me finish."

"Sorry… Go on."

Only when he was absolutely confident that she would not interrupt again, did he continue. "Last night sometime the townhouse was broken into and trashed. I discovered it after court this morning. Now, I didn't want Ecklie traipsing through my home, so I called Brass directly to report it, and then Nick, Warrick and Greg to come and process. I had hoped that the whole thing could be kept quiet and that in a couple of days the world could just continue on as normal." Pausing to gather his thoughts, he was grateful for her patience. "I'm not sure how to say this, so I'll just tell you the same way I told the guys. I don't live alone, Catherine. I haven't for a while. If the details of my life were made public…" Pausing again, he found himself growing more and more frustrated with his inability to say what he wanted to say in the way he wanted to say it. Finally, he decided to abandon all pretence and just speak. He could worry about couching the details in delicate language once they were all out in the open – that is, if she didn't hang up on him first.

"Catherine, Sara and I are together. We have been for over two years now. In that whole time, we didn't tell anybody. You and Nick and Greg and Warrick… you are our family. We didn't keep it from you to exclude you. Believe it or not, we were actually trying to protect you. The day after Ecklie was promoted to lab director, be called us both into his office. I think it may have actually been his first official act. Evidently, all the speculation as to the true nature of my and Sara's relationship had reached his ears and he wanted to make his position crystal clear. I can't remember his exact words, but the basic gist was that if he ever got word that we so much as mildly enjoyed each other's company outside of a professional context he would instigate an internal investigation into 'anonymous allegations' that I traded employment for sexual favours, and Sara kept her job on her back. He more than suggested that he knew what the outcome of that investigation would be. He went on to say that if, in the course of this investigation it became clear that anyone on the team had knowledge of 'the arrangement', as he put it, that the guilty parties would face serious consequences.

"When it became clear to the guys this morning that Sara and I had been keeping our relationship from them… Let's just say it didn't go terribly well... And then Ecklie showed up - though how he found out so quickly I still don't know. The fact that he knew that I had called them, that they were in the house – _our _house… We resigned on the spot, Catherine. Both of us. With us gone, Ecklie already has his scalps, and he should leave the rest of you alone…

"Sara and I are at the lab as we speak, clearing out our things. Everything should be gone by the start of shift. The office, the job, it's yours Catherine, and I guess that in a way I am glad for that. This way I know I will have left my team, my family, in the best possible hands."

When there was no immediate reply, he understood. After what he had just laid out before her, it was perfectly reasonable that she should need a moment. When, after nearly five minutes of silence she still had not made a sound, he felt compelled to add, "I'm finished, Catherine. You can speak now… If you want to."

"Yeah, I'm… just, I'm… what?" came her reply. Clearly, she was still a little stunned. After another several minutes had passed, she spoke again. "What will you do now?"

She hadn't hung up on him! Flooded with relief, he hurried to answer her question, wary that the tide of her emotions still might turn on him at any moment.

"I don't know, really. We haven't talked about it yet. We won't be staying in Vegas, though. That much is certain. We will probably end up in San Francisco. Go full circle and head back to where it all began. I have a standing offer to teach at the university there on the proviso that I lend my name to a textbook or two along the way, and Sara still has friends at the lab there. She could probably get her old job back working days." As he spoke, he heard a soft knock at his door. "Speak of the devil. Hang on a minute, Catherine. I'll be right back."

Grissom quickly emerged from behind his desk and crossed the room to open the door. On the other side he found what looked like a pair of legs attached to two large boxes. "Gilbert Edward Anthony Grissom, how much stuff do you keep in your locker?! Throw in a TV and a toaster oven and you could practically live out of it!"

Taking the first of the two boxes from her, he couldn't help but smile at the look of exasperation fixed upon her face. "Whinger…" he said playfully, and stepped aside to allow her through the door. "Just put these anywhere. We'll start in here soon. But right now Catherine is still on the line."

Dropping her voice to a whisper, Sara stepped closer and asked seriously, "How is that going?"

Brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face, he replied, "Pretty well, I think. At least she hasn't hung up on me yet", before returning to the other side of his desk to retrieve his phone. Sara watched the light go out of his eyes as he lifted the phone to his ear, and her heart broke for him.

"What is it, Griss?"

"She's gone."

As Grissom slumped down in his chair, Sara rounded the corner and came to rest in his lap, his head buried in her neck.

"What do you want to do?", she asked.

With is arms wrapped around her waist, he crushed her tiny frame to his for a split second before releasing her completely and lifting his head from her shoulder. Looking into her deep brown eyes, he raised his hand and drew his thumb across her bottom lip as he answered steadily.

"Pack."

_TBC..._


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry this took so long, guys. I am a bad bad author, I know. This chapter isn't quite finished in my head yet, but I thought I would post what I had so far anyway.**

"_I don't know, really. We haven't talked about it yet. We won't be staying in Vegas, though. That much is certain. We will probably end up in San Francisco. Go full circle and head back to where it all began."_

Sitting bolt upright in bed, wearing nothing but her favourite lavender teddy, Catherine felt her entire body go numb. She was sure the only reason she was still able to hold to phone to her ear was that her muscles had suddenly atrophied in place.

"_You are likely to be angry, or upset, or both", _he had said. Knowing that Grissom was never a man to jump to conclusions, she sat there, and listened, and waited. Where was this anger, this hurt? All she felt was confusion.

"_Speak of the devil. Hang on a minute, Catherine. I'll be right back."_

Hang on? She could hang on. In fact, at that moment, it seemed that it was all that she could do.

Down the line she heard him place the phone down on something hard – his desk, probably, or the sidetable beside the couch lining the eastern wall of his office. Her office, now.

Suddenly it struck her that she could hear voices, faint but intelligible, and she strained to make out the words.

"_Gilbert Edward Anthony Grissom, how much stuff do you keep in you locker?! Throw in a TV and a toaster oven and you could practically live out of it."_

"_Whinger…"_

And then it hit her. Wave after wave of pure unadulterated anger rolled through her body, electrifying her nerves until they felt as though they were blazing.

"Gilbert Edward Anthony Grissom. Gilbert Edward Anthony Grissom." Over and over she repeated his full name, as if it were some powerful personal mantra. In eighteen years of friendship he had never told her his full name. She would see on sundry lab publicity and internal paperwork his initials – G. E. A. Grissom – but had never known exactly what they stood for.

But Sara did.

Because she was dating him.

Because she was living with him.

Because she was building and entire world with him.

A world he had deliberately kept from her.

Damn his rationalisation, his flimsy excuses. Damn him! If he wants to go, then he could go. She wasn't going to stop him.

Slamming down the phone, Catherine lay back into her now-cold sheets and willed herself back to sleep.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Well, that's everything" Grissom said quietly as he moved to stand behind Sara, wrapping both arms around her waist. The final box had been packed and loaded into his truck only moment before. The walls before him were now bare, the shelves empty. "You know, I never really noticed the colour of these walls before. How could I have sat in this room almost every day for just under eight years now and never noticed the colour of the walls?"

Sara was relieved to find his voice held no resentment, no anger, no frustration or hurt. Spinning in his arms, careful not to lose contact for even a second, she caught his gaze with her won, and couldn't help but smile at what she saw there. In his eyes she could see the little boy he had been so long ago, puzzled by some small curiosity he found whilst playing in the yard; the high school student who spent every waking moment devouring the world of great minds – scientific, literary, and otherwise – who had come before him in his search for answers; the graduate student who, when confronted with a question he couldn't find an answer to, set out to discover one for himself; and, finally, the professor who strove to instill his own burning curiosity into each and every one of his students.

"Well," she said playfully, "you have to consider the fact that given the sheer volume of stuff you had in here, you may not have actually laid eyes on these walls since the day you moved in."

Leaning down, Grissom whispered, his lips grazing her own, "Ahh, well that explains it", before claming her mouth in an all-consuming kiss. Pulling away only when their lungs could wait no longer, he released his grip on her waist, brought this hand to her face for a moment before dropping it again to take hold of her hand. Squeezing her fingers, he said tenderly, "You want to go and see if they have released our crime scene yet? We seem to be on a roll with this whole packing thing."

Smiling, she replied, "Well, if we are on a roll, how could I say no?"

Without letting go of his hand, she took a single step backwards towards the door and winked, before he suddenly pulled her back, her body pressed against his, their faces mere inches apart. Looking into her rich brown eyes he whispered slowly, "You know, I don't know what I would do without you."

Clichéd as it was, she had no doubt that he meant every word, and felt her eyes welling up with tears. As the first one fell down her cheek she replied in a tone to match his own, "And it's not something you are ever going to have to find out."

Moments later, after arriving a few hours early for the start of his shift, Nick saw then walk hand-in-hand out of Grissom's office, down the halls, past reception and out of the building completely without once looking back.

_TBC..._


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Okay, here's the plot: Sara and Grissom are already involved in a secret relationship when Sara is attacked whilst interviewing a suspect. An ambulance is called, but no one calls Grissom, and he only finds out when Nick (I think) comes bounding past. Grissom rushes to her side as she is loaded into the ambulance and he answers all of the paramedics questions regarding allergies, regular medications and recent illnesses, raising suspicions amongst the team. Later, at the hospital, the doctor suggests that Sara might like some things brought from home to make her feel more comfortable when she wakes up, and Grissom pulls his keys from his pocket and asks Catherine to go and collect some things - including her favourite nightshift - from the townhouse, ending rather spectacularly any pretense of a secret relationship once and for all. I DID NOT WRITE THIS STORY. This story was one of the very first fanfics I ever read and I am desperately wanting to locate it again to add it to my favourites list as a sign of respect for the author. If anyone recognises the plot and knows the author's penname or ID, or the story title, please let me know either in a review or private message. Thankyou!**

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"Hard to believe, isn't it?" said Judy, following Nick's line of sight.

Still angry from the night before and not particularly interested in discussing the happy couple, he tore his eyes away from their retreating backs to focus all his attention on the sign-in book.

Oblivious to his mood, Judy took his silence as a cue to continue. "I just can't imagine this place without them, you know?"

Suddenly, Nick's head jerked up in surprise, his eyes studying her face in a desperate search for meaning. _Without them?_

Shrinking under the intensity of his scrutiny, words began tumbling out of her mouth unbidden. "I'm just being silly, I suppose. It's just… well, they've both been here for so long. They are like fixtures of the place. Grissom was one of the first people I met when I started here, and Sara spends so much time here it was almost like we were housemates or something. Oh, I know that it must be worse for you guys – well, not worse exactly, but you know, you guys are all such great friends – real friends, I mean, not just 'see you around' friends –"

His patience used exhausted, Nick cut her off brusquely mid-spiel. "What do you mean 'without them'?"

"You mean, you don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Well, from what I can gather, last night Ecklie somehow found out that Grissom and Sara were… let's just say their relationship wasn't exactly strictly professional. Anyway, I don't know all of the messy details but they have just spent the last couple of hours clearing out their lockers and boxing up his office. I think they were fired."

Shocked, Nick hurried to the main glass door and peered out, searching the lot for any sign of them or their vehicle.

But he was too late. They were gone.

Hoping and praying that Judy was wrong he turned and ran down through the hallways until he was standing outside Grissom's door. Gently resting his hand on the doorknob, he closed his eyes for a minute. If she wasn't wrong, if they really were gone, then it was his fault. They were his friends and he had just turned his back on them. They had their reasons for keeping quiet – they even tried to explain them to him, but he had just walked away.

Turning the handle, the door swung open without a sound, to reveal nothing but barren shelves and an empty desk. Every specimen jar, every textbook, even the damn terrariums had vanished without leaving so much as a trace of their existence, rendering the once vital room completely devoid of personality, intellect and emotion.

Feeling deflated Nick stepping into the room and pulled his phone from his belt. Dialling first Warrick, then Catherine and Greg, he told them all simply, "We have a problem."

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"You know," Grissom said from the doorway as he surveyed the damage before him, "I don't think this is going to take very long. After what these guys did to the place, there's not a whole hell of a lot left to pack."

Looking up from her position on the floor, seated amongst the ruins of their home, she said lightly, "I think you might just be right. I started sorting through this mess almost half an hour ago, now, and I still haven't found anything salvageable." Rising gracefully, she navigated her way through the piles of debris to stand a few feet in front of him and held out her right index finger. "I did manage the world's worst paper cut, though. See?"

Laughing, he took a half-step forward and pulled his glasses from their resting place in his shirt pocket. Examining the wound, he proclaimed in a voice laden with false authority, "Miss Sidle, I do believe we need to amputate."

As he stood before her – glasses teetering dangerously on the end of his nose, eyes sparkling – she know beyond any shadow of a doubt that she had never loved whim as much as she did in that very moment. Extending her hand further forward to run her wounded finger over his stubbly cheek, she whispered quietly, "I think I'll live."

Just as the air between them began to spark with the strength of their desire, the mood was broken by a loud rumbling sound emanating from her belly. Laughing to cover her embarrassment, she took a step back and looked pointedly at the white paper bag he held in his hands. "So, Griss, what did you bring me? French truffles covered in fine gold leaf? Exotic puffer fish served on a bed of Russian caviar?"

"Better," he replied. "I brought waffles."

"My hero!" she exclaimed, snatching the bag from his hands. "You know, I don't think we have any plates left to eat these off of."

Placing a hand on each of her shoulders, he slowly spun her around until she was facing away from him and towards what was once their living room. "Do you really think it will matter if we spill a little syrup, Sara?"

Shooting him an amused glance, she replied, "I guess not… smartass."

"Ouch! You wound me!" he cried on a laugh. "How about you go and find somewhere to sit and eat amongst all this stuff, whilst I go and have a quick shower. I don't even want to think about how long I have been wearing this suit."

"Okay, but you know how it is with thieves these days. There mad for returning to the scene. If one was to break in whilst you were upstairs and make off with you waffle, I couldn't be held responsible."

"I'm not worried," he called over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs. "You're tough, Sidle. You'd protect my breakfast."

Her gentle laughter was the last thing he heard before the shower jets came to life.

Ten minutes later he made his way back downstairs to find her sitting cross-legged atop the kitchen bench, wiping syrup from her face with the back of her hand.

Sensing him nearby, she attempted to continue their gentle banter from earlier. "It wasn't easy, but your waffle managed to pull through."

When no reply came her way, she raised a questioning eyebrow and spun in his direction, her legs hanging languidly over the edge of the bench. "Everything okay, Griss? You look… different."

"I feel different, Sara. Do you feel different?" Uncrossing his arms, he closed the distance between them until he was standing directly before her, his hips inches from her knees.

"Well, that depend on what exactly you mean by 'different'," she replied, her voice growing husky and rough.

Resting a hand on her knee, he began drawing gentle circles with his fingers up and down her outer thigh. "When I was in the shower I was thinking about us, about our time together and about how things have changed. I have known that I was in love with you for a long time now, Sara. That day when you first kissed me so gently in the hall outside your apartment door… We built a life together here, but I could never fully allow myself to trust in it. I was sure that somehow it was all just about to fall apart, that we would be found out and everything would just melt away. But now…" His eyes, dark with desire, matched her own. Moving his roving hand to gently separate her thighs he stepped forward to stand between them, his face now mere inches from her won. "I cannot tell you how amazing it felt to stand there in the lab today and do this." He reached over and took her hand in his own. "And this." With his other hand he crushed a strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear, his fingers coming to rest on her neck. "And this." Pulling her towards him he claimed her mouth in a gentle kiss. "Without having to worry about who's watching." Pulling away just enough to look into her eyes, he whispered quietly, "I realise that we have lost our house, our jobs, our friends and most of our possessions all in the last eighteen hours, but I can't help but feel that everything is finally as it was always meant to be."

Without a word, she leaned forward to graze her lips against his own, a feather light kiss to convey more emotion that words ever could. Slowly extricating her hand from his grasp, she ran her fingers up and over his arms and down his chest before slipping them below the hem of his shirt. "I love you," she whispered into his ear as she raised the shirt up and over his head, abandoning it to drop to the floor.

Just as their lips were about to meet again, they both heard a man clear his throat nearby. Glancing over her lover's bare shoulder, Sara saw Brass standing just inside the doorway, a huge smile plastered across his face.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" he asked cheekily.

Bending down to retrieve his shirt from the floor, Grissom shot Sara a glance, equal parts amusement and apology, before moving the shield himself on the opposite side of the bench.

Laughing lightly, Sara jumped down from the bench and began to make her way towards the detective.

"Hey, Brass. What can we do for you today?"

"Well, actually, I have come to see about getting a statement from Grissom's mystery girl. She around?"

Abruptly she pulled him into a tight embrace. Stepping back after a minute, he could see that she had tears in her eyes.

"Oh, Brass. You have no idea how nice it is to know that there is still someone who doesn't hate us."

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As Conrad Ecklie approached his office after returning from the scene of the robbery he felt a sense of pure euphoria. He had won. Taking off his coat and hanging it on the hook attached to the back of his door, he rounded his desk and sat down. He knew that the prudent thing to do was to send their letters of resignation down to human resources immediately and make his victory over the great Gil Grissom official, but he held back, wanting to savour the moment a little longer.

Standing, he moved to the small liquor cabinet located amongst the shelves of his bookcase and began to pour himself a drink. As he raised the glass to his lips in a silent toast, he heard a quiet yet insistent knock on his door.

"Come in."

Turning as he downed his drink in a single mouthful, he saw his secretary open the door and enter the room.

"What is it?"

"Um, sir, you have a call on line one." Wringing her hands and shuffling her feet, she dropped her eyes to the floor before adding quickly, "It's the Sheriff."

Placing his glass down with a little more force than was strictly necessary, he said in a tone that did little to hide his confusion, "Fine. Put him through."

His door had barely shut behind her when his phone began ringing. Lifting the handset, he settled back into his chair, gazing once again with satisfaction upon Grissom's neat signature.

"Sheriff, how can I help you?"

"Good evening, Conrad. I just heard some very disturbing news and wanted to clarify things with you first-hand."

"Go ahead, sir. Anything I can do to help."

"Okay, then. Is it true that Gil Grissom proffered his resignation earlier today, and that you accepted it?"

The smug smile falling from his face, Ecklie sat forward in his chair slightly and braced himself before replying.

"Yes, sir. That is true. I discovered that supervisor Grissom was engaged in a sexual relationship with one of his subordinates and took the appropriate action, accepting both his and CSI Sara Sidle's resignations."

"Damn it, man! He was our nominee for the research grant! He can sleep with whoever he damn well pleases!"

"But sir –"

"No buts. You get him back, and you do it fast. Listen carefully _Assistant Director_ _Ecklie_, if Gil Grissom leaves that lab, so do you. Am I making myself clear?"

Embittered and resentful, Ecklie practically spat his reply down the line. "Crystal."

_TBC..._


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Sorry it took so long, folks! There was writers-block, and then there were exams. Lots of very painful exams. Damn higher education, I'm off to join the circus!**

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The more Nick stared at the bare walls, the more they seemed to move around him, shifting in and out as if the building itself was breathing, and as he sat alone in the empty office, he could not quite decide if he felt more like Judas or Jonah. Logically, he knew that he could just stand up and walk out the door. He didn't have to wait there, where there was not a single square inch that did not remind him of his betrayal. He could just as easily wait in the break room, with a television and some coffee to keep him company until the rest of the team arrived. But that would be too easy, and he didn't deserve easy.

Staring at the spot on the wall where the clock used to hang, he wondered just how much time had passed since they had sealed the last box, since they had said their goodbyes to the vacant air, since they had walked past him without so much as glancing back. He wondered just how much time had passed since he arrived at the townhouse, since he saw them together toasting their demise. He wondered just how much time it would take to fix everything. He wondered just how much time it would take to wind back the clock.

Suddenly he was jolted from his thoughts by a voice in the doorway. Glancing across he saw Catherine standing on the threshold, and as he watched her face he could see the grief etch itself into her skin.

"Oh my god… He really did it. He's really gone."

Unable to find a reply in the fog of confusion surrounding him, Nick just sat and stared at her, as if he could find the answers if he just looked hard enough. After a few moments of silence, Catherine stepped fully into the room and went to sit directly in front of him. Bringing a hand up to draw across her face, she asked quietly, "Nick, what happened?"

This was the moment he was dreading, the moment he would have to explain to everyone that he had turned his back on his friends – his family – when they had needed his support the most.

As she watched the emotions flicker across his face, she was stunned to see the depth of pain shining through his eyes.

"Nick. Hey, just start at the beginning."

Sighing, he looked away, studiously avoiding any and all eye-contact.

"Start at the beginning, huh? Well, I don't exactly know when the beginning was, so I guess I'll just start from yesterday. I was on my way home when Grissom rang my cell. He asked me to come to his house, but he was pretty cryptic about everything and wouldn't tell me why. I got there first, but Warrick and Brass weren't far behind, and then Greg showed up a few minutes later. None of us had any idea what was going on, but we could all see that Grissom looked… well, drawn, I guess. Tired. And then he told us that his house had been trashed, and that he wanted us to process. He wanted a team he could trust." At this point he saw Catherine flinch, and he realised what he had just said. Grissom wanted a team that he could trust, and that team hadn't included her. Deciding that it would be best to just keep going, that the revelations still to come would surely be enough to distract her from the doubts clearly plaguing her, he rushed to continue. "Then he said that he didn't live alone. Can you believe that? You could have knocked me over with a feather. I mean, Grissom?"

Catherine, from whom not an ounce of shock or surprise flowed, began to get frustrated as Nick wandered further and further off track.

"Nick, get on with it!"

"Okay, okay. So we open the door and, man, that place–"

"Was totalled." Cutting him off, Warrick finished the sentence from the doorway. Sauntering in, he took a moment to take in the hollow feel of the room, before sitting beside Nick and shaking his head. "Man, this is just wrong."

Both Nick and Catherine nodded their heads slowly in silent agreement, before Catherine urged them to continue.

"So the place was a mess. What happened then?"

"Well, then we just got to work basically. I took the perimeter whilst Warrick and Greg started on the inside. There was some speculation about who the mystery girl might be, but… Well, let's just say we weren't even close. And then Sara showed up, and…" At this point Nick faltered, and Warrick took over.

"Sara showed up and started wandering around the scene. I thought she was there to process, but Greg pointed out that she didn't have her kit. Now, I was just confused, but Greg seemed to think he had it all figured."

Before he could continue, an embarrassed Greg stepped through the door and sat heavily next to Catherine and opposite Warrick.

"Shut up. I didn't know."

"None of us knew, Greg.", came Nick's quiet retort.

"Anyway…", prompted Catherine.

"Anyway," said Warrick, "Greg joked that she must be there to snoop, you know, to figure out what makes the bossman tick. She didn't like that very much, and then Grissom appeared in the doorway, all casual nonchalance, and told us to go home, that Ecklie had gotten wind of the call and dayshift were on their way."

"And then it got really strange," continued Greg. "It was like he was a totally different person. Just walked straight through the debris, not caring what evidence he trampled in the process, and pulled a bottle of Vodka from the freezer. Vodka! He poured two glasses and passed one to Sara and then they started talking to one another as if they were the only two in the room. I mean, talk about rude! First he doesn't offer us a drink, and then they both just sit there and ignore us?"

"GREG!", cried Catherine.

"Whoa, girl. Calm down," soothed Warrick.

"You are wasting time. Just tell me what happened sans the commentary so we can figure out how to fix it."

"Okay, I'll finish," said Nick, his head hung low. "Skipping ahead a little, it came out that the two of them had been in a relationship for over two years. They said they had their reasons for keeping it from us, but… but I walked out on them before they could explain. I'm so sorry, guys. I should have stayed and listened…"

Reaching a hand over to pat his knee gently, Catherine said softly, "It's not your fault, Nick."

"Oh no? I was there. They were trying to explain and I wouldn't let them. I abandoned them. Sara was like a sister to me, and Grissom… well, the man saved my life – in more ways than one probably – and I just turned my back."

"Nick, he called me this morning, you know. Only a few hours ago, actually. He explained to me why they kept it from us, and he explained to me why they resigned."

At this, all three men came to attention.

"Well," asked Warrick, "are you going to tell us or not?"

Feeling their gazes burning on her skin, Catherine steeled herself before continuing. "They didn't tell us because Ecklie threatened our jobs. Apparently after he was made Assistant Director, he called them both in and threatened to destroy their careers and reputations if he ever found out that there was anything more than a professional relationship between them – I think Grissom's exact words were that Ecklie would instigate an internal investigation into reports that he traded sexual favours in exchange for employment, and that Sara kept her job on her back – and that he would do the same to any of us if he found out that we knew they were together and didn't report it. I think that maybe they were trying to save us from having to choose between our friends and our careers as much as anything else… When Ecklie found out about the break-in, Grissom assumed that he must also know that he had called you all out there. Logic dictates that if you were at their house you must know about their personal relationship, and Grissom had no doubt that Ecklie would make good on his threat. They resigned on the spot in the hope that it would satisfy his blood-lust and that he would leave the rest of us alone."

"So, they really were just trying to protect us…" His voice trailing off, Warrick was overcome.

Watching as the other three seemed to draw back into themselves, Greg forced himself to ask the next logical question.

"Did they say what they were going to do? Or where they were going to go?"

"No. Well, not really. He said that the only definite was that they would not be staying in Vegas." Catherine hung her head in shame as she finished. "He might have told me more. I don't know. I… I hung up on him."

Silence fell across the room. For a while, each member of the guilt-ridden quartet was lost in his or her own thoughts.

And then the time for quiet introspection passed and the time for action dawned.

"Okay, well, what do we do now?"

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As he stood and took in the sight of the two of them sitting side by side, knees and elbows touching, so comfortable in one another's space, Brass couldn't help but smile. After he had taken Sara's statement – which basically consisted of her explaining that she was wasn't home at the time of the robbery and hadn't had a chance yet to sort through the debris to identify if any items smaller than a stereo had been taken – he had started in on the important stuff.

How long has this been going on?

How long have you been seeing each other?

How long have you been sleeping together?

How long have you been living together?

Who made the first move? Why?

Are you married?

Are you planning to get married? (A question followed by the mother of all awkward silences… Whoops!)

There was joking and laughter and a tear or two as they recounted stories of their relationship – the elderly neighbour who had caught him sleeping outside her door, and the nights they spent together over the weeks that followed sleeping and talking and sleeping and _trusting_; the time Greg had shown up at Sara's apartment after a particularly difficult shift carrying a six-pack and some movies, wanting to commiserate with a kindred spirit over Grissom's tyrannical ways, not knowing that the man himself was hiding half-dressed behind the door; the decomp scene out by Lake Tahoe where Grissom had asked Sara to move in with him; the time after all the boxes were unpacked that they realised they really had to change the locks after Catherine had let herself in for one of the traditional breakfasts she and Grissom used to share every couple of months, effectively trapping Sara in the laundry for two solid hours – and Brass was amazed by the love that flowed between them.

"So, how did you two crazy kids keep it a secret for so long? I thought your team was supposed to be one of the best in the country. The way you act around each other, I won't be surprised if I have cases called up on appeal on the grounds that the CSIs who worked them were clearly blind, deaf and dumb."

Taking a moment to smile at the slight blush that slipped across his lover's cheeks, Grissom replied, "Well, Jim, we just didn't tell them."

"That's it? You didn't tell them? You gotta be kidding me!"

"Well, there is a little more to it than that," Sara interjected. "We didn't tell them, and we tried to keep it strictly professional at work. We slipped up every now and then. Grissom asking me to move in with him as we were kneeling over a decomp, for example." Elbowing Grissom in the side as he chuckled at the memory, she continued. "But for the most part, we tried to keep everything as normal as possible around the lab. I think the only real change was that we got on better. You wouldn't believe the amount of emotional energy that went into denying what we felt for one another. It made us bitter. When we stopped fighting it, we stopped fighting each other as well."

Trying to swallow the true size of his grin, Brass retorted sarcastically, "I think you just gave me a cavity, Sidle."

As all three laughed and Grissom leaned in to plant a gentle kiss on Sara's temple, a phone began to ring.

"Can't be either of us, Brass. We resigned remember."

Checking his belt, Brass looked up in confusion. "Well, it's not me."

Sara rose and padded quickly towards the kitchen to see if she could find where they left their cells. Eventually, the ringing stopped and she shrugged her shoulders and began to make her way back, only to hear it start up again a moment later. As Grissom moved to join her search in the kitchen, Brass noticed a paper bag vibrating off to his right.

"Hey, guys. There is something vibrating over here, and if it's not your cell phone, I don't think I really want to know."

Shooting him an unamused look, Grissom bent and retrieved his phone from the bag. Glancing at the screen, he looked up in disbelief.

"It's Ecklie."

Sara spun quickly, and planted her hands on her hips. "What? Why would he be calling?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe he wants extra copies of our resignations so that he can wallpaper his house or something."

"I wouldn't put it past him."

"Um, guys," interjected Brass, "the phone is still ringing."

As Grissom once again looked to Sara, as though seeking her opinion as to what he should do, she dropped her hands from her hips and began to make her way back across the room.

"You should answer it, Griss. What is the worst he can do?"

Flipping the phone open, he raised it to his ear.

"What do you want now, Conrad?"

From down the other end of the line, Grissom could hear what sounded like the grinding of teeth before Ecklie muttered in a tone thick with bitter resentment, "I want you back."

_TBC..._


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: When I first sat down to write this chapter, I thought that it would be the last. Turns out, not so much...**

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_From down the other end of the line, Grissom could hear what sounded like the grinding of teeth before Ecklie muttered in a tone thick with bitter resentment, "I want you back."_

Grissom suddenly became very still. Sara and Brass both noticed the change in him, exchanging anxious glances, before Sara began to make her way towards him. When she had gotten to within a few feet of where he stood, Grissom broke his silence, speaking down the line in a tone heavy with quiet, simmering rage.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Don't make this harder than it has to be. The Sheriff… I'm offering you your job back. You should be grateful."

Abruptly he pulled the phone from his ear, flipped it shut and set it down heavily on the bench to his right. Clenching his jaw and fisting his hands, he angled his eyes to the ground as he tried to regain control over his anger.

As she stepped nearer, closing the distance between them, she lifted a hand to his face, applying a gentle pressure until he was forced to raise his eyes to meet hers.

With a slight smile that did little to disguise her concern, she said softly, "Hey, stranger."

At first he didn't reply, still consumed with loathing for the man who had denied them so much, and taken away even more; but slowly, as he felt her skin dance lightly over his and as he counted the tiny flecks of gold in her warm chocolate eyes, he could feel the anger drain away. Reaching out to wrap his strong arms around her tiny waist, he buried his face in her hair, whispering a quiet, "Sara", into her ear.

Wishing that he could drown in the moment, he held her in his arms for what seemed like an eternity, only lifting his head from her shoulder when he felt a firm tapping on his left shoulder.

"Touching as this little display is, I think it's time to shelve the lover-boy persona and tell us what the hell that call was all about!"

Loosening his grip on her waist only enough to allow her to spin in his arms, her back coming to rest against his chest, her ear grazing the skin just inches from his lips, he took in the sight of Brass standing with his arms folded across his chest, trying desperately to hide his smile behind a gruff tone and demanding expression.

"Well?" continued the detective when at first he was met with no response.

"Well what?" Grissom replied calmly.

Becoming more and more agitated as he recognised that the entomologist was starting to play him, he said loudly and with force, "What did the weasel want?"

Grissom couldn't help but indulge in the moment, turning his head to chuckle into his lover's hair, feeling as she turned into his touch the last of the complications of life lived in secret fall away.

"This has turned into a good day, Jim. Why ruin it?"

"Don't try that with me. One minute you were so happy that it was actually painful to watch, and the next you looked ready to kill someone. What did he say?"

"Jim, please–"

Spinning again in his arms until she was able to look him in the eye, Sara cut him off. Tilting her head slightly to the right and lowing her eyelids ever so slightly, knowing that when she looked at him like that he could deny her nothing, she asked, "What did he say, Grissom?"

Sighing, he released his hold on her waist completely and took a step back, resting his hands on his hips. "He said, 'I want you back'."

As a triumphant smile spread across his face, Brass took a bold step forward and reached his right hand out, grabbing hold of Grissom's in a fierce and powerful handshake. "Ha Ha! I knew he couldn't hold out for long. Welcome back, Gil."

Snatching his hand away, Grissom once again reached out for Sara, drawing her to his chest. Shaking his head, he said with a certainty that made the detective's blood run cold, "No, Jim. You don't understand. I'm not going back. We're not going back. It's over."

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As Nick, Warrick, Greg and Catherine sat on the floor in the empty room, a room that only hours before had been vibrant and full of knowledge, a room that was now cold and torturously lifeless, they found themselves growing more and more desperate in their search for a solution.

"There has to be something!" cried Greg after yet another suggestion was dismissed as impractical, illogical or doomed to failure. "We can't just let them leave."

Nick, who had been intently studying the floor ever since he learned of the heartfelt motivations behind the secrecy and deception, suddenly raised his head and fixed each member of the group in turn with a searching gaze.

"What would you be willing to risk?"

"What do you mean?" came Warrick's puzzled reply.

"I mean, what would you be willing to risk to get them back? They resigned to save us. I would be willing to do the same for them. Would you?"

As the plan began to take shape in his head, he glanced around the group, attempting to read in their faces what they could not yet seem to put into words. When he caught sight of Catherine's tiny nod, he was spurred to continue.

"Think about it guys. We were desperately understaffed to begin with. After losing Grissom and Sara, the lab is going to be really pushing to keep up with all the new cases, and if we can't maintain our solve rates then we will lose our national ranking." His eyes alight with guarded optimism, a smile began to grow across his face. "I vote we all resign, right now, tonight. Ecklie can't afford to lose a single one of us, so the thought of losing an entire shift… He'll offer us anything. I'm sure of it."

"And if we say that we will only come back if he rehires Grissom and Sara…" offered Catherine.

"Gives them back their old jobs, no transfers or demotions…" amended Warrick.

"He'll be forced to agree!" concluded Greg with nothing short of glee.

Silence descended on the group as they sat smiling widely at each other. After a moment, Nick asked excitedly, "Well, what are we all waiting for?"

Jumping up as fast as they could, the four began to make their way quickly down the hallways. Arriving in the Assistant Director's outer office, they surrounded his secretary as though they were a pack of wild animals going in for the kill.

"Um… can… can I help you?" she asked nervously.

"We need to see Ecklie. Now."

"You can't."

Catherine took a half step forward and planted her hands firmly on her hips. "We can and we will."

"No, I mean you really can't. He's not here."

"What do you mean he's not here? It's the middle of the day!"

"I know. He was called out. The Sheriff, you see, he rang…" Her voice fading as she took in the fiery expression of the four criminalist's before her, she added quickly, "He didn't tell me where he was going."

As the woman began to fold in on herself under the intensity of their combined attention, Catherine said in a tone saccharine sweet, "Well, if you can tell him that we need to see him as soon as he gets in. It's urgent." Turning her back, Catherine walked brusquely from the room, followed by the three men, each wearing a look of quiet determination to match her own.

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"What do you mean, 'It's over'?" asked Brass, his face shocked, his tone incredulous.

Sensing Grissom tense behind her, Sara began delicately caressing his arms where they lay wrapped around her waist, and leaned back slightly, increasing the pressure of her back on his chest.

"He means just that, Brass. It's over. We're done. We lost more than our jobs last night. We lost our home, our friends, our… our family. When you first got here, I told you that it was nice to know that there was someone out there that didn't hate us. I meant it. If you had seen the look in their eyes…"

Her voice failing her as the tears began to rise in her throat, she felt Grissom place a gently kiss on the curve of her ear before saying simply, "There is just nothing left for us here."

Before Brass had a chance to argue, his phone began to chirp. He lifted it to his ear and answered without once taking his eyes from the couple before him. As he listened to the desk sergeant outline details of a homicide in the next suburb over, he felt them slipping further and further away. By the time he ended the call, he knew that there was nothing he could say to change their minds. This, it seemed, was goodbye.

"I have to go. DB not too far from here." Thinking that you can't blame a guy for trying, Brass continued lightly, "You could always come with, you know. Dead body, always fun…"

The detective watched as the entomologist closed his eyes briefly and smile. Opening them again he relinquished his hold on Sara's waist and stepped forward, reaching the same hand out that he had snatched away moments before.

"Bye, Jim. And thankyou."

Watching as his old friend walked out the door, Grissom suddenly felt very tired. Looking at his watch, he realised that it had been over twenty-four hours since he last slept, and he was beginning to feel every minute of it.

"Honey, I need to get away from here for a while. Let's go and check in to the hotel, lie down and get some sleep. We can finish with this mess later."

Without a word she walked across to the kitchen and to collect their things, pausing briefly before deciding to leave their phones behind. As she approached him, she saw his head slump forward and noted the exhaustion that danced across his face. Quickly, and without warning, she brought her lips to his and kissed him deeply, pulling away only when her need for oxygen grew stronger than her need for him. As they stood together, eyes closed and foreheads touching, breathing quick and shallow, the appeals of a hotel room seemed to multiply.

Stepping through the door, laughing at the apparent futility of locking it behind them, they were stopped in their tracks by the sight of Conrad Ecklie's car pulling in to the driveway, effectively blocking them in and cutting off their first line of escape. The rage that had flooded his senses earlier came rushing back.

Stepping from the car, Ecklie took a moment to look the two of them up and down, noting with disgust their interlocking hands and Grissom's protective stance.

"Move your car, Conrad."

"Sure."

"Now."

"Hear me out first. The lab needs you."

Suddenly, despite the anger that was pouring off Grissom in waves, Sara began to laugh. At first it started as what could only be described as a giggle, but soon grew until the strength of it was shaking her tiny shoulders, her face red and free hand clutching at her stomach.

"Is she alright?" asked Ecklie, confused and uncertain.

Searching her face, Grissom replied, "I don't know. Are you alright?"

Pulling herself together, she leaned into his side and said quietly, "You said the same thing to me once. I didn't take it well."

Unable to place the memory, Grissom raised a single eyebrow, but was cut off before he could put his question into words.

"What do you want?"

Turning away from his lover and towards his former boss and adversary, he did his best to stay calm.

"What?"

"What do you want? More money? A raise, maybe? Or perhaps I could arrange for the lab to remunerate you in a one-off payment for some of those insect specimens you have purchased over the years?"

"Ecklie–"

"Just tell me what it will take, and I'll make it happen. I'll even hire her back if you want."

As he pointed a cold, spindly finger in her direction and appraised her with a unscrupulous eye, Sara felt a wave of nausea sweep over her, reflexively increasing her grip on Grissom's hand. Turning to her, he sought out her eyes with his own and raised his free hand to brush a stray hair from her face. Speaking to one another without ever uttering a sound, they both turned and headed in the direction of her car, still mercifully unobstructed in its position parked on the street.

As they passed by him, Ecklie grabbed Sara's arm just above the elbow. Stopping dead in her tracks, she just stared at his hand in disbelief before raising angry eyes to meet his.

Transfixed by her furious stare, Ecklie didn't see Grissom disentangle his fingers from hers and take a dangerous step towards him.

"You are really going to want to take you hands off her, Conrad." Jerking his head violently in the direction of his voice, Ecklie was shocked to see a rage he had never before encountered in the man simmering behind his eyes. As he took yet another step towards him, his large frame coming to rest directly in front of Sara, shielding her with his body, Grissom continued in a voice which spoke of the most dangerous kind of anger. "I don't work for you any more, and trust me when I say that there is nothing in this world I would like more right now than to tear you limb from limb."

Abruptly letting go of her arm, Ecklie started moving quickly backwards towards his car. Once he was safely back inside, doors closed and locked, he lowered the window just far enough to call out, "You'll regret this, Grissom."

After they had watched him speed down the street, Grissom turned to Sara searched her face for any sign of pain.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No, Griss. He didn't hurt me."

Leaning in, he kissed her gently, his hands placed delicately on either side of her face.

When he pulled back to search her eyes once again, she said tenderly, "You look tired, Grissom."

"I am tired, Sara."

She saw the truth of his words in his eyes, and reached out to take him by the hand, leading him in the direction of her car. As she climbed behind the wheel, she turned to him and said, "Everything will be okay, Grissom. We'll be okay."

As he turned to her, she felt tears welling behind her eyes as she saw the vulnerability shining in his face. "You promise?"

"I promise."

_TBC..._


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Sorry it took so long. I had some issues getting my desktop to read the file. It took me three days to figure out that if I save everything as a .rtf the gremlins will go and play elsewhere.**

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Turning into the lot and parking in the space labelled, 'Reserved Conrad Ecklie', he shook his head at the irony of it all. He had always berated Grissom for his lack of political savvy, arguing that he would make both of their lives easier if he would just put his principles aside every now and then and play the game, and when the man finally took his advice... This was nothing more than manoeuvring, Ecklie was sure of that. Grissom knew valuable he was – he had played that card at least once in the past to save that bitch's job after she had thrown a tantrum in the hallway, defying both his and Catherine's authority – and now he was just using the threat of his resignation as a negotiating ploy. Well, it had worked. Anything the man wanted he could have.

Stepping from the car, he slammed the door shut, stabbing the remote locking button so hard that the tip of his neatly trimmed nail bent back, sending sparks of pain through his finger and into his wrist.

Storming through the front doors and down the hallways, he took some small satisfaction in noticing the receptionists and lab techs shy out of his path. They knew not to mess with him. Grissom should take a memo.

Stepping into his outer office, he shooed off the insistent trilling of his secretary as she flitted around behind him, trailing him all the way to his desk like some desperate puppy in need of walking. Coming to rest in his luxury orthopaedic chair only to find Grissom's neat signature and Sidle's illegible scrawl staring up at him, their resignations still enjoying pride of place sitting squarely in the centre of his desk, he steeled himself for action.

"Louise!" he called through the door, beckoning his waifish assistant back into his inner sanctum.

As she scurried through the door, Ecklie took a moment, as he always did when she first entered the room, to regret his decision to hire her. She was pale and thin, but she lacked the understated elegance and grace that lent some women with her build and complexion the aura of a delicate swan. Instead, the woman before him screamed of weakness, of insufferable fragility, and sometimes he would find himself wishing she would just go ahead and break so he could get along with finding someone half-decent to take her place.

As she stood in the doorway wringing her hands and looking for all the world as if she wanted nothing more than to melt into the walls and disappear, she managed a quiet, terrified, "Yes, sir."

"Louise, I want you to go through our files and pull up everything we have on Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle. I want to know where they have worked and why they left. I want the names of their references. I want a list of every mailing address they have supplied us over the years. Most importantly I want to know when those addresses became the same. I want a full systems check to see if either of them has so much as an overdue parking fine or speeding ticket. If you can't find anything, Google them. See if you can find out when, where and how they met. I want everything and anything, understand?"

Scribbling furiously to try and note down his every request, Louise parroted, "Yes, sir", before leaving the room.

Sitting behind his desk, fingers peaked under his chin, Ecklie started to formulate a contingency plan in his head. What he needed was proof, or at least the appearance of proof, that Grissom used his intimate relationship with Sidle to influence the outcome of the investigation she was brought in to conduct regarding the culpability of Warrick Brown in the death of rookie Holly Gribbs. If he couldn't placate the Sheriff by convincing the entomologist to return, he would at least be able to tarnish his reputation such that his resignation would play well in the media, hopefully ensuring the safety of Ecklie's own position as Assistant Director of the lab.

Standing for the second time in as many hours to move towards his liquor cabinet, he heard a commotion outside his door. With renewed purpose he approached the door, yanking it open with enough force to send the doorknob slamming into the wall, ready and willing to exercise his authority on someone who would have the decency to recognise and respect it.

"What is going on here?" he growled as he took in the sight of what remained of the graveyard shift standing before him.

Stepping forward, Catherine, the self-appointed leader of the group, said firmly, "Conrad, we would like a word with you regarding the future direction of the lab."

As the crocodile smile spread across his face, Ecklie gave a silent prayer of thanks for the ruthless reliability of ambition. The team was clearly fragmenting, each member jockeying for their own callous self-promotion.

"Don't worry, Catherine. You are to be acting supervisor of the shift, at least until we have a chance to advertise. If the rest of you would like to apply, I would strongly encourage it."

Shaking her head, Catherine donned her most endearing smile, one that she had had to use only a handful of times since she left her life as a Vegas stripper behind, and said sweetly, "You misunderstand. Perhaps we had better continue this conversation in your office."

Stepping back and waving the four inside, Ecklie closed the door behind them before making his way to sit behind his desk, taking comfort in the posturing due a man in his position. Leaning back casually, he asked, "Well, then, what exactly can I do for you?"

The three men once again deferred to Catherine as she replied, "We would like to discuss the... situation we find ourselves in."

"I take it you mean the recent resignations of your colleague and supervisor?"

"Yes."

"What would you like to know?"

Placing her hands on her hips, she seemed to Ecklie to be steeling herself for some epic confrontation.

"Firstly, we would like to know if you have any intention of reconsidering your position, of reinstating them to their former positions within the lab."

If that was what the man demanded, Ecklie had _every_ intention of giving it to him. What he had no intention of doing, however, was letting the four miscreants before him know that.

"Not at this time."

As she took a moment to process the full implication of his words, Catherine spared a brief glance at her three companions, turning back to Ecklie only when she had seen each and every one offer a tiny nod of support.

"In that case, Conrad, I would like to officially notify you of my resignation, effective immediately."

Stepping forward, Warrick said without hesitation, "As would I." Nick followed, leaving Greg the last to throw himself onto the sacrificial fire.

Turning to leave, the four were stopped in their tracks by Ecklie's desperate call, the note of panic shining in his voice not missed by any of them.

"Wait! We can work this out, I'm sure."

Pausing a moment to swallow her triumphant grin, Catherine was the last to turn back, this time signalling for Nick to take the lead.

"We want them back, Ecklie. We will come back to work if, and only if, our team is put back together."

"And," added Warrick, "we want a written guarantee from you that you will in no way interfere in thier personal relationship outside the lab, or use that relationship against them inside the lab."

Feeling all trace of his authority melt away once again, Ecklie tried to pinpoint the exact moment he had lost control over the lab, quickly coming to the conclusion that perhaps he never had it at all. His father had once told him that it was better to be feared than loved, and it was a maxim that had become integral to his life and success, but it now dawned on him that he had neither. Grissom, however, had both.

Letting his head fall heavily into his hands, Ecklie slumped forward across his desk.

"I already offered him his job back. I practically begged the man. I told him that he could have anything he wanted – more money, more time to conduct research... I even offered to reinstate Sidle as well, but he turned me down flat. So perhaps you want to rethink your little ultimatum."

The disbelief was written plainly across their faces, each looking to the others for some explanation, some indication that someone understood. Greg was the first to recover.

"He... he turned you down?"

Nodding his head slowly, the defeat weighing heavy against his brow, he said simply, "Yes."

Catherine looked at him askance, asking again, "You offered to reinstate them both and he just turned you down?"

Their scepticism beginning to grate on his nerves, Ecklie snapped back, "Asked and answered."

Greg, looking for all the world like a bewildered little boy, turned to Catherine and asked softly, "But... why?"

For once it seemed as though the woman had been rendered speechless. She stood awkwardly, her mouth opening slightly and then closing again, eventually averting her eyes from Greg's searching gaze when it became clear that she just did not have an answer.

"I don't know."

"I do." As Nick's quiet voice rang out across the room, all attention turned in his direction. "They're not coming back because of us. They were in trouble and they needed us, and we all just... abandoned them. Warrick, Greg and I _literally_ turned our backs on them. They were sitting there, in the wreckage of their house, trying to explain, pleading with us to just take a minute and listen, and we walked away. And you, Catherine... He called you and told you everything, he told you why, and you still hung up on him... They must think that leaving is their only option, that none of us want to see them or work with them again. They must think that we hate them..."

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The drive to the hotel was made in comfortable silence, the exhaustion flowing through their bodies too great for mere words to express. Pulling up outside reception, Sara handed the valet the keys as Grissom retrieved what meagre possessions they had brought with them from the back seat, enough only to loosely fill a single carry bag. Stepping up to the front desk, they leaned ever-so-slightly on each other for support as they went through the necessities of check-in. Handing over his credit card, he accepted the electronic key from the clerk with obvious gratitude, before setting off in the direction of the elevators.

Reaching the seventeenth floor, the brushed metal doors opened to reveal the lush hallway carpets of the Bellagio Hotel. Stepping out, they turned left in search of their room, Sara close to Grissom's side, her cheek resting against his upper arm and his hand clasped in hers. Stopping outside room 1752, he turned to her and brought his hand up to cup her cheek. Leaning forward to lay a feather-light kiss on her lips, he said, "Well, I guess it's just you and me now, stranger."

Surprised by the emotions that flooded her at the thought, she was helpless against the smile that spread across her face.

"You and me, Griss. You and me."

Opening the door, he led her inside, dumping the bag on the nearest chair and falling heavily atop the mattress. Rolling onto his side, he watched her move around the room, admiring the lines of her delicate frame as she dug through their things in search of her favourite nightshirt. Turning in his direction she caught his eye, winking playfully before disappearing into the bathroom to shower and change.

As he heard the jets come to life, he turned to once again lie on his back, closing his eyes to think back over the day. Lost in thought, it seemed as though only seconds had passed before he felt the mattress shift under her weight as she climbed gracefully over to rest her head beside his. Turning towards her, expecting to see a slightly sad, sleepy expression on her face, he was shocked at the shameless grin shining back at him.

"What are you smiling about?"

Reaching across to rest a loving hand on his chest, she whispered, "You picked me."

Now thoroughly confused, Grissom raised a single eyebrow in question before asking uncertainly, "What do you mean?"

Looking into his face, the smile began to slip from her face, to be replaced by a look of anxiety and fear, her lower lip worried between her teeth, her eyes darting away from his to stare at her hand where it sat over his heart.

"Do you remember the Debbie Marlin case, Grissom?"

Suddenly very alert, Grissom snapped to attention, his eyes desperately searching her face for some clue as to what she was about to say.

"Yes, I remember."

Subtly increasing the strength of her touch, as if to reassure herself that he was no illusion, no fleeting trick of the mind, she continued softly, her voice low and timid.

"I was there."

Felling the panic begin to rise in his throat, he brought his hand up to wrap around her wrist, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"You were where, Sara?"

"I was in the observation room, watching you interrogate her killer. I heard everything. I heard you tell him that you couldn't risk everything you worked for, everything you built, to be with me."

As an overwhelming sense of shame cascaded through his body, he started to shake his head, releasing his hold on her wrist to caress her face with his hand. Before he could speak, she pulled her hand from his chest to rest a gentle finger over his mouth. Smiling gently, she continued, "You asked me what I was smiling about, so just give me a chance to answer, okay?"

Relishing the touch of her finger against his lips as he replied, he said simply, "Okay."

"You looked so sad, so tired, so... lost. I don't know how long I just stood there watching you through the glass. Eventually, though, it just became too much for me and I left. That was the moment I lost all hope of ever being with you, of finding out what your mouth tasted like, or what your fingers felt like on my skin. I just... gave up." As his eyes pleaded with her for forgiveness, the first tear fell down his cheek. Reaching up to wipe it away with her thumb, she pressed on. "But then Adam Trent happened, and you showed up at my door, and the rest, as they say, is history. From the very beginning you showed me the kind of happiness I never knew existed, but always in the back of my mind was the memory... I was sure that when push came to shove, you would choose your career over me."

Unable to take anymore, Grissom reached for her and pulled her to his chest, peppering her hair with kisses as he chanted, "I'm sorry", over and over again into her ear.

Planting a hand on each of his shoulders, she pushed him back until she was able to look him in the face. The renowned Sara Sidle grin firmly in place, she chuckled lightly. "You don't understand. I'm smiling because you proved me wrong. Rather spectacularly, actually. You... you picked me."

The shame and sadness still plainly written across his face, Grissom sat up in bed, laying both of his hands gently on either side of her face.

"Of course I picked you. I love you. And I hate myself for making you think otherwise. God, you deserve so much better, Sara."

Alarmed at the response her revelation had evoked, she quickly rose up, moving across to sit in his lap, pulling him close to her. "Hey, Grissom, stop it. Look at me." Lifting his chin with her hand, she leaned forward and kissed him over and over again, refusing to stop until he kissed her back. When at last she felt him melt into her, she let out a sigh of relief and pulled back to look into his eyes.

"You and me, Griss."

Resting his forehead against hers, he whispered in reply, "You and me."

Kissing her softly one last time, he brought her with him as he lay back into the sheets, her head coming to rest on his shoulder, her warm breath tickling his neck. After a moment of silence, he turned his head to lay a gentle kiss on her temple.

"We make things hard for ourselves, sometimes, don't we? When I think of the years I wasted pushing you away... And now with everything that is going on with the team... I can't help but think if we had just told them sooner–"

Cutting him off, Sara raised herself up onto her elbow to look him in the face. "Whoa, stop right there. We did what we did to protect them. We couldn't make them choose between protecting us and protecting themselves."

"They were your family, Sara, and now–"

"You are my family, Grissom. _You_ are."

Looking into her eyes, he was in awe of her beauty, her strength, her passion, her love for him. Smiling, he decided that he had spent enough of his life living in the past, and that it was time to focus on the future, their future. Tracing a finger down the length of her nose, he whispered on a smile, "So where do you want to go?"

"Go?"

"Well, we'll be finished cleaning out the house in a few days, and after that we really have no reason to stay. All we have to do is sign an authorisation form and the estate agent can take care of the listing and sale. By this time next week we could be looking for a new house anywhere in the country. So where do you want to go?"

Smiling against his chest, Sara closed her eyes against the wave of pure, unadulterated joy threatening to overwhelm her completely. Breathing deeply, she revelled in the smell of him, the touch of him, the sound of his voice as it lovingly caressed her ears. Feeling a blissful sense of calm spread through her, she let everything else fall away. Committing the moment to memory, she whispered simply in reply, "The ocean, Grissom. Let's go to the ocean."

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As the seventh call went unanswered, the group began to panic. Huddled together in the hallway, Nick, Greg, Warrick and Catherine were quickly running out of ideas. Their brilliant planned had failed, undermined from the beginning by their own callous reaction to the news of their friends' secret life together.

Placing her hand over Nick's as he went to dial Grissom's cell yet again, she said urgently "It's no use. They must be screening our calls."

"Well we can't just sit around and do nothing, Catherine! They will have to pick up eventually."

Pulling is hand from hers, he pressed redial and brought the phone to his ear, the anguish plainly written across his face as yet another call was diverted to voicemail.

"As long as we are just voices at the end of the line, they can ignore us. If we could talk to them face to face, make them see that we aren't angry, that we are _happy_ for them, then maybe we could convince them to come back."

Before she had even finished speaking, Warrick had turned towards reception and started making his way down the halls. Calling over his shoulder he asked, "Are you coming, or not?"

The atmosphere in the truck was stifling, the anxiety, fear and regret ebbing and flowing through the tiny space like waves. Pulling up to the curb outside the townhouse, each breathed a sigh of relief when they saw Grissom's truck still parked in the drive.

Killing the ignition, the four sat together in silent anticipation before leaving their seats and approaching the front door.

Raising her hand to hover over the doorbell, Catherine whispered as much to herself as to the others, "Here we go."

Pressing down briefly, they could hear the shrill song sounding inside throughout the house. When after a moment they had received no response, Greg stepped forward to ring again, this time leaning on the buzzer for much longer than was necessary, yet still no one came.

Stepping away from the door to peek through the front windows, Warrick said ominously, "I don't think anyone's home, guys."

"But his car is here."

Abandoning his post, Warrick again returned to the group, pinning Greg with a weary look. "Yeah, but where is hers?"

Pulling his phone from his belt, Nick said, "I'm going to try and call them again. Maybe Sara will pick up." As the others turned to conference among themselves, Nick pressed number three on his speed dial with a trembling finger, all four standing in shocked silence as they heard the trilling of a cell phone behind the door.

Rushing back to his vantage point at the front window, Warrick again scanned the living room and kitchen for any signs of life. Squinting, he felt the last of vestiges of hope evaporate as he caught sight of the flashing screen of Sara's phone sitting abandoned atop the breakfast bar. Straightening slowly, he turned to the others and said, "The good news is they weren't screening our calls. The bad news is that they have left their cells behind, and we have no idea where they went or how to find them."

_TBC..._


	12. Chapter 12

After an hour or so Brass felt he had done all he could at the scene of the suspicious death, abandoning the forensics to swing shift and the last of the interviews to uniformed officers. Coming to rest behind the wheel of his car, he placed the keys in the ignition, but didn't turn to engine over. Leaning back in his seat, he closed his eyes as the revelations of the past twenty-four hours washed over him. He didn't quite know how to feel.

A sharp knock on the window drawing him from his reverie, Brass snapped his head around to see the worried face of a patrolman peeking through the tinted glass. Winding down his window, he asked gruffly, "What?"

"Are you okay, sir?"

Nodding brusquely and waving the officer away with a dismissive hand, he turned the key and brought the engine to life before muttering simply, "Fine."

Pulling away from the curb, Brass came to the end of the quiet suburban street and found himself faced with yet another dilemma. He could turn right and head back to the precinct to focus on the case at hand, or he could turn left and head back to the now infamous townhouse. As he remembered the look of determination and hurt in their eyes as they explained their decision and the reasoning behind it, he flicked his indicator on to flash to the right. There really was nothing he could do. Turning the wheel, he pulled out into traffic, only to drive a measly two hundred yards before pulling doubling back.

As he drove, he auditioned several arguments in his head. He knew that he had no chance of convincing them to stay in the next couple of hours, but if he could at least get them to reconsider the hastiness of their decision, get them to take a little time to really think things through...

Turning into their street, Brass abruptly stepped on the brake as he recognised Warrick's truck parked outside the house. Feeling the anger build in his chest, he clenched his jaw sharply before slipping the car into neutral, gliding up quietly to park behind them on the street.

Completely fixated on their own crisis, no one in the panicked group noticed his arrival, and Brass was able to slip from behind the wheel and come up to stand only a few feet behind them completely undetected.

"And just what do you think you are doing?" he shouted, causing the four to jump slightly and back away from the door. As he noted the guilt plastered openly across each of their faces, he began to think that maybe he had been too hasty in his judgement. They may have been the reason for Grissom and Sara's ultimate decision to sacrifice their careers and leave Vegas, but perhaps their initial reaction was just reflexive, an automatic response to the thought that they had been deliberately deceived. Perhaps they were here to apologise. Perhaps they were here to convince them to stay.

Before he could act on the thought, however, he noticed Greg shooting nervous glances at the door. Following his line of sight, Brass was shocked to see a series of metal pins sticking from the lock, and felt the rage return with renewed force.

"You were trying to break in to their house? You were trying to BREAK INTO THEIR HOUSE!!!"

Feeling his blood pressure rising to dangerous levels, Brass turned abruptly to start pacing on the front lawn, gesticulating wildly as he vented.

"They're good together, you know that? The way they look at each other... They love each other, and they are good together, but you people were too damn selfish to see that, weren't you? 'Oh, they lied to me! They hurt my feelings!' Get over it!"

As he touched a nerve in the four, Catherine yelled angrily, "We are!"

Stopping mid-stride, he turned to look at them, dropping his flailing arms to his side.

"What?"

"We are over it. We want them back."

"Well then why are you breaking into their house?"

Lifting a hand to scrub across his face, Nick answered, "We are trying to get at their cell phones."

Raising a confused eyebrow, Brass stepped forward to join them on the stoop, grunting out a quick, "More information."

"Am I right in assuming from that little display that you know the basic gist of the last twenty-four hours?"

"The basic gist? You mean that Grissom and Sara were secretly living together, their house was vandalised and suddenly their relationship wasn't so secret anymore, and then they resigned? Yeah, I think I've got the _basic gist_."

In an attempt to calm the man down, Warrick stepped closer to his side and said quietly, "Brass, chill man."

"Just get on with it."

"Well, none of us handled the news exactly well, and now Ecklie says that even though he offered them both their jobs back, they turned him down. They are determined to leave."

Looking grim, Brass rested one hand on his hip as he brought the other up to rub over his forehead.

"I was here when Ecklie called."

As four sets of eyes began boring into him, the detective faced them down. "They really are good together. I spent a few hours with them this afternoon, and it was actually scary to see how happy they both looked. I mean, this is Grissom we are talking about here. In all the years I've known him, the man has smiled maybe once or twice a year, and suddenly he's sitting in front of me grinning like a schoolboy after his first lay! But when Sara tried to tell me about the way you guys had reacted to the news, she started to cry... I don't believe they really _want_to leave, they just don't think they have any real choice. They said that there was nothing left for them here."

Moving to kneel back before the lock, Nick said over his shoulder, "And _that_ is why we need their cell phones!"

Still totally confused, Brass scanned the group for any clues. Coming up blank, he said,

"Okay, seriously people, you need to spell it out for me."

Warrick turned to him and laid out their plan as quickly as he could, the lock clicking into place and swinging open behind him as he spoke.

"They're not here, but their cell phones are. We figure that if we can get inside and scroll though their recent call lists, we might find some clue as to where they went."

"Yes! We got it!" came Nick's jubilant cry from across the room. "A call was made from the boss man's phone to the Bellagio Hotel about eighteen hours ago."

Pulling the door closed behind them as they hurried from the house, Nick, Greg, Warrick and Catherine made their way towards their truck, whilst Brass again climbed behind the wheel of his car.

"I'll follow you. They can run but they can't hide! If all else fails we'll flash my badge and pull their room number from the front desk."

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Grissom awoke with a start. At first not remembering where he was, he raised his head from the pillow to take in his surroundings, careful not to disturb Sara as she slept with her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest, one of her legs draped lightly over his. Spying the small black bag sitting on the chair in the corner of the room, the events of the day before came flooding back and he dropped his head back onto the pillow. Turning to the left, he stared at the clock. They only checked in an hour ago, so he couldn't have been asleep for more than forty minutes. He was _exhausted_. Why wasn't he asleep?

Closing his eyes and turning to rest his chin against the crown of Sara's head, Grissom filled his lungs with the sweet smell of her lavender shampoo as he waited for sleep to claim him once again. Just as the world had started to slip away, the unmistakable sound of knuckles connecting with wood registered in his weary mind. Someone was knocking on the door to their room.

Gently, he lifted Sara's hand from his chest and freed his leg from hers without waking her. Rolling towards her, he cradled her against his chest as he slipped her head from his shoulder and placed it gently back onto the pillow. Satisfied he had not disturbed her, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, taking a moment to gather the strength he would require to actually stand and walk over to the door.

Placing both hands on the mattress either side of his lap to help push himself up, he felt a soft hand drift across his lower back. Turning slightly to look over his shoulder, he saw her tired eyes smiling up at him.

"Where are you going?"

Before he could answer, the knocking sounded again, this time louder and more insistent. Stating the obvious, he replied, "There is someone at the door."

Laughing lightly, she rolled onto her back, her eyes never leaving him.

Standing slowly, he padded over to the door. Resting a hand against the wall to his left, he pulled the heavy door open slowly, expecting to see housekeeping or a room-service tray.

"Hey, Gil. Sorry to just drop by like this, but it is rather urgent. On the off-chance you two are engaged in some good old-fashioned adult entertainment in there, you should go tell Sara to put some clothes on. We need to talk."

Too shocked to take offense, Grissom just stood and stared at the five people before him, not saying a word.

As the silence dragged on, Sara pulled herself from the sheets, too tired to notice that she was wearing nothing but a pair of panties and her nightshirt. Coming up to stand a little behind him, partly obscured by the half-open door, she asked on a yawn, "Who is it?"

In lieu of a reply, he simply pulled to door further open, allowing her to see out into the hallway.

Taking a half-step forward, Brass smiled and quickly averted his gaze. Lifting his hand to cover Greg's eager eyes, he said simply, his voice warm and welcoming, "Hello, Sara."

_TBC..._


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Sorry this took so long, guys. I really struggled to come up with ideas for this chapter. Originally I was planning to have everything resolved by the end of it, finally able to list the story as complete, but nothing I wrote seemed to fit with what came before, and so I plow on. Next chapter should be the last, though... maybe... probably... **

OoOoOoOoO

_Taking a half-step forward, Brass smiled and quickly averted his gaze. Lifting his hand to cover Greg's eager eyes, he said simply, his voice warm and welcoming, "Hello, Sara."_

Not quite sure what to say, Sara tore her eyes away from the ramshackle group crowding the doorway to study her lover's face. Surprise and exhaustion were both obvious, his mouth hanging slightly open and his eyes dark and heavy, but beyond that was a deep sense of hurt, of disappointment, fear and the slightest hint of humiliation. She saw him close his eyes and hang his head ever-so-slightly, resting his weight more and more on the wall to his left, and everything else around her faded away, the voices of her friends calling to her from the hallway reverting back to nothing more than white noise. This was it. Grissom – intelligent, strong, caring, proud – was standing on the precipice, and the slightest breath of wind could push him over the edge. Slowly, carefully, she closed the distance between them, resting one hand gently on his lower back, rubbing small circles over his tense and tired muscles. As she felt him begin to come back to her, she raised her other hand up to cover his where it lay holding the door open. Twining her fingers with his, she drew his hand away, letting the door fall closed.

After a moment of silence, she stepped even closer and brushed her lips against his shoulder before whispering in a tone infused with all the love and concern she felt, "Hey, stranger."

At the sound of her voice, Grissom felt the last of his defences collapse. He couldn't be strong anymore. He couldn't be anything anymore. He needed sleep and he needed her and anything else was just too much. Slumping against the wall completely, he reached out and pulled her to his chest, crushing her tiny frame against his. Burying his head in the crook of her neck, he closed his eyes and tried to block out the frantic pleas and frenzied knocking sounding from the other side of the door, desperate to lose himself in the smell of her, the feel of her, the sound of her gentle whispers against his cheek.

When his breathing had calmed and his heart rate slowed, he pressed a tender kiss into the skin of her neck before lifting his head to rest his forehead against hers. As the warm caress of his sigh danced across her face, she closed her eyes and whispered, "Come back to bed."

As they turned, hand in hand, and manoeuvred their way back through the darkened room, Sara became dimly aware of the voices still calling out to them both from the hall. In their earlier exhaustion, they had simply collapsed atop the blankets, and as Grissom stood by the side of the bed and began to turn down the sheets, Sara spun on her heels to head back towards the door. After only two steps, she felt his warm hand grasp her wrist, pulling her back until her shoulders came to rest against the slow rise and fall of his chest. Closing her eyes, she felt his lips graze against the curve of her ear as he whispered, "Don't. Please, just... don't."

Turning her head into his touch, she pressed her cheek against his lips and nodded her silent reply before stepping away to move to the other side of the bed, pushing down the sheets and climbing into their cool embrace. She watched as he slowly pulled his shirt over his head and stepped out of his jeans, reaching a hand out to run through his hair as his head once again came to rest on the pillow.

Turning his head to the side, he sought out her gaze. "Oh, Sara..."

As the defeat heavy in his tone echoed through her head, she saw him move his arm to make space for her at his side. Without a second thought, she moved to press the length of her body against his, her left hand tracing circles on his chest as she listened to the steady beat of his heart under her ear.

As the knocking finally stopped, the voices in the hall giving way to silence, she asked quietly, "Do you trust me, Griss?"

With one arm wrapped around her waist, his hand resting on the curve of her hip, he pulled her closer to his side. Turning his head, he pressed a firm and reassuring kiss into her hair before answering, "More than anyone in the world."

"Good."

Expecting more, he loosened his grip on her hip and moved his other hand across to trace a finger down her nose before lifting her chin slightly to force her to meet his questioning gaze.

"Good? That's all I get?"

As she saw the elusive half-smile pull at the corner of his mouth, she was overwhelmed by the relief flooding her veins. Laughing gently, she answered playfully, "What? You were expecting more?"

"Well, yes, actually. If not an explanation for the question itself, then at least a courtesy, 'I trust you, too.'"

Raising herself up on her elbows to match him in posture and tone, she lowered her eyelids slightly before replying, "Really? Hmm... Interesting."

As the smile on his face morphed into a charming grin, she simply could not hold herself back any longer, launching herself forward to claim his lips with her own. Only when oxygen moved from a want to a need did they pull back, collapsing into the sheets in peels of gentle laughter.

Rolling onto his side, Grissom studied her face, her cheeks flushed from laughing, her lips swollen from kissing him, her eyes shining despite the dim light of the room. After a moment of silence, he asked, his voice full of renewed strength, her presence alone soothing every ache and banishing the demons that haunted him in the night, "Can I ask you a question?"

Winking mischievously she replied, "Well, you can _ask_..."

Reaching a hand out to grab one of hers, he brought it to his lips and lavished gentle kisses on each and every one of her fingertips. As his lips were pressed against the pad of her pinky, she cleared her throat dramatically before saying, "I seem to remember something about a question...?"

Moving her hand from his lips to hold against his chest, he said, "Right. A question."

"Yes."

As he looked at her some of the frivolity in the air lifted, leaving in its place a light blanket of sombre expectation.

"I want to know why you started laughing when Ecklie said that the lab needed us."

For a long moment, Sara said nothing. He watched as her eyes became unfocussed, her mind drifting away from the present and into the past. When he could wait no longer, he relinquished his hold on her hand and brought his fingertips up to graze against her cheek, dragging her back into the moment.

"Where'd you go?"

Smiling slightly, she looked at him as though for the first time.

"I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"About the answer to your question."

He waited patiently in silence, his fingers still tracing a feather-light touch over her skin, knowing that she would speak when she was ready. Eventually, she closed her eyes and turned into his touch, speaking in a tone soft and distant.

"You said that to me once. You told me the lab needed me."

As if that was all the explanation that was necessary, she fell silent and rolled onto her side, pulling on his hand with hers to draw him close to her, her back pressed against his chest, his arm draped around her waist, his hand splayed protectively over her stomach and their legs folded together in perfect harmony. When after a moment it became clear to him that she was not planning on saying any more, he prompted quietly, "Sara, honey, I still don't understand."

Sighing lightly, she pleaded with him, "Just let it go, Griss. It's not important."

He moved to pull away from her slightly, only to be drawn back as she increased the strength of her hold on his hand. She didn't want to let him go.

"Sara–"

Cutting him off before he could say anymore, she started talking, the words falling from her mouth in a torrent, unchecked, uncensored.

"You told me that the lab needed me, and it killed me. You had pushed me so far away that just showing up to work every day felt like a knife in my gut and everything you said to me –everything you didn't say to me – just twisted it over and over. I was in agony, and you couldn't see. You _wouldn't_ see. I had to get away, and you told me that the lab needed me, when all I wanted to hear was that you needed me. I just needed to hear that you needed me..." Sniffling quietly, trying to hide her tears from him, she forced a gently chuckle, though it sounded forced even to her ears. "It was during my unrequited stage, you see."

Without a word he closed the distance he had put between them, moulding his body to hers such that not a breath of air was left to separate them. Her tears may have been silent, but he knew they were falling, her distress betrayed by her fractured breathing. As he felt her calm, he whispered into her hair, "I did need you. I just couldn't let you see. I was terrified that if I said the words I would make them real, and then when you left me... I had been alone my whole life, Sara, and I wasn't used to..." His words echoed through his head, sounding callous, self-serving and hollow. Drawing her closer still, he abandoned all attempts at explanation, at justification, and said simply, "I did need you. I do need you. I will _always _need you. You... you are my everything."

Silently she brought his hand up to her lips and kissed his knuckles softly, curling her legs further back to twine with his. As they lay content in the all-consuming warmth of their embrace, they let sleep claim them, both having forgotten in the wake of their shared revelations about the five desperate people still stalking the hall outside their room.

OoOoOoOoO

_Taking a half-step forward, Brass smiled and quickly averted his gaze. Lifting his hand to cover Greg's eager eyes, he said simply, his voice warm and welcoming, "Hello, Sara."_

The detective's bravado faltered a little as he waited in vain for her reply, a sense of foreboding settling in his stomach as he watched her turn her attention away from the group crowding her doorway towards Grissom, who seemed to be fading before their very eyes. Half-listening to the fumbled congratulations and apologies streaming forth from the four criminalists to his right, he dropped his hand from Greg's eyes and braced himself for action, fearing that his old friend may actually collapse at his feet any minute. As Sara took the few cautious steps to stand at the entomologist's side, his attention was snapped back to the young man beside him when he announced, practically salivating over every word, "Whoa! Sara! I always knew you were hot, but... WOW!"

Turning quickly, Brass pushed Greg away from the door, forcing him to stand several feet away, the look on his face fierce enough to ensure there would be no protest. Already composing an apology in his head, he was at first relieved to find that neither Grissom nor Sara had apparently heard the remark. Studying Grissom's face, however, his relief disappeared, to be replaced by apprehension, distress and alarm. His friend appeared to be folding in on himself, his only anchor the brunette at his side, her touch luring him back from the edge.

As the heavy wooden door slowly shut, he reached out to fend off all attempts to prop it open.

"Hey! Just back off."

"Brass! What the hell are you doing!"

As Catherine made a Hail Mary lunge for the door in the seconds before the lock clicked back into place, he moved to physically block her advance, grabbing her arms above the elbow and forcing her back, pinning her against the wall opposite.

"Back off, Catherine!"

Before Catherine could put up a fight against his hold on her, Warrick stepped forward and wrenched the older man away, a look equal parts confusion and outrage plastered across his face.

"What is _wrong_ with you, man?! We come all the way over here, force the desk clerk to give up their room number, only to let them slam the door in our faces, and then you attack Cath!"

His distress morphing into anger, he screamed back, "Are you people blind?"

For a man who was renowned for keeping his cool in the most trying of circumstances, this was the second time in as many hours that he had lost all control, yelling and screaming at his friends – his family – out of anger, hurt, fear and frustration. His outburst forced the other four into silence, each waiting for an explanation.

"Didn't you see that? Didn't you see what just happened?"

Nick, his southern drawl deliberately slowed in an attempt to calm the overwrought New Yorker, replied, "Yeah, they shut the door in our faces."

As he felt the anger slowly begin to fall away, he brought one hand up to rest on his hip, flaring his charcoal suit-coat out to reveal his badge and gun. Bringing the other up to rub across his forehead in an attempt to fend off the headache beginning to press behind his eyes, he continued, "But did you see their faces?"

Still incensed, Catherine snapped back, "What about them?"

Lifting his eyes to meet hers, the detective felt an incredible sense of loss settle in his bones.

"He looked... broken."

Silence fell across the group as they each realised the depth of truth in his words. Nick was the first to recover, his profound guilt spurring him on to act. Stepping quickly forward, he began pounding on the door.

"Griss! Grissom! Come on, boss. Open the door! Sara! Open the door! We just want to talk to you guys!"

Unable to think of anything better to do, Catherine and Greg moved to join him, flanking him on either side, adding their voices to his call.

Staring at their backs, Brass simply shook his head, unable to do any more to stop them. Leaning back to rest his weight against the wall, his shoulders pressed into the same spot he had held Catherine moments earlier, he said a silent goodbye to the pair, the haunted look on Grissom's face burning itself into his eyelids.

Just as he was preparing himself to leave, a strange silence fell across the hall. Focussing his eyes on the criminalists before him, he saw that Warrick had pulled the other three away from the door, silencing their pounding and pleas with the promise of a new plan.

Turning his soulful green eyes to meet the detective's gaze, he asked, his tone infused with hope, "So, Brass, what do you think?"

Shaking off the fog that had fallen about him, he pushed himself off the wall and took a step forward before saying, "Sorry, ah... run it by me again."

Furrowing his brow slightly, Warrick replied, "Okay... Well, basically, instead of standing here screaming and banging on their door all night, we all go back to work. After all, our shift was supposed to start twenty minutes ago, and you have an active case to get back to."

Interrupting, Brass asked, "But how does this get them to stay?"

Greg, barely containing his enthusiasm, rushed to explain. "Well, they clearly don't want to talk to us right now, and whilst Sara was _smokin__'_, Grissom did look a little... well, not exactly himself. We were thinking that if we went downstairs and each took a few minutes to write a quick note to them, just explaining how sorry we were for acting like giant asses and how happy we are for them that they are, you know," waving his hand around, Greg took a moment to search for the right word, the young man clearly still struggling with the thought of his sexy young mentor and his scary old boss having a romantic relationship, "together, we could leave them with the front desk and hopefully they will butter them up enough to talk to us face to face in the morning."

Warming to the idea, Brass simply nodded his head, emotionally drained from the events of the day. As he quietly admonished himself for allowing his thoughts to drift to the warm embrace of the hotel bar, he turned to follow the others as they moved towards the elevators.

As the metal doors opened before them, the mirrored back wall reflecting their anxious faces back to them, Nick asked quietly, his voice betraying the fear eating away at each and every one of them, "What if this doesn't work?"

Not allowing any room for doubt, Catherine stepped forward to meet her reflection head on, replying with strength and certainty, "It has to, Nick. It has to."

_TBC..._


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: EVERYBODY PLEASE NOTE THAT THE RATING HAS GONE UP! Though it was not technically planned, this chapter suddenly found itself chock-full of adult themes. If you are offended by such things, skip down past the first two-thirds of the story entirely. The final third is from Nick's perspective, and is squeaky clean, I promise.**

**OoOoOoOoO**

As Grissom slowly floated up and into the realm of consciousness, he felt her fingers dancing across his chest and her tongue flicking out to tickle his earlobe. Artificially slowing his breathing and lying as still as possible, he did his best to trick her into thinking he had not yet awoken, revelling in her secret morning ministrations. Some of his fondest memories of her were from moments like this, as she woke him up on those precious few days they got to spend together completely away from work with tender kisses and gentle caresses. It was only then that it struck him that every day now was a shared day off, and he took a moment to wonder why it was he hadn't resigned earlier. Drawn from his thoughts by the sound of her quiet laughter in his ear, he struggled against the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, only losing the battle completely when he heard her whisper playfully, "If you don't wake up soon, I'm just going to have to start without you..."

With lightning speed he rolled to pin her under his weight, her wrists grasped firmly in his hands and his nose lightly brushing against hers. Staring into her eyes, he faked a yawn and asked softly, his voice drenched with lascivious delight, "Start what without me?"

Slowly, deliberately, she began to writhe beneath him, testing the strength of his hold on her arms as she brought her leg up to hook over his hip. The effect she was having on him was undeniable as she rolled her hips lazily to rub up against him, his breath rushing out in a guttural moan. As his head dropped down to lavish tender kisses across her neck, he released her wrists, her hands once freed roaming hungrily over the smooth skin of his broad, bare back. Tearing his lips from her skin, he sat back on his knees, drawing her up with him and lifting her nightshirt over her head.

Suddenly, he stopped. His hands fell from her skin, and when she moved to kiss him, he darted away from her touch. Feeling confused and vulnerable, Sara folded her arms to cover her chest, only to have him reach out and brush them away, exposing her creamy breasts to his gaze once again.

With a shaky voice, Sara uttered his name in question as she fought against the fear welling inside of her, the voice in the back of her head whispering that he had changed his mind, that he had decided to choose his career over her after all. After a painfully long moment of silence, she heard him exhale heavily and braced herself for heartbreak.

Drowning in the sight of her, Grissom brought a hand up to gently cup her cheek, stilling the quiver of her chin with the palm of his hand. In a tone that spoke of utter reverence and complete devotion he whispered, "You are so incredibly beautiful, Sara."

Not quite believing her ears, Sara tilted her head to the side out of habit as she choked out a stunned, "What?"

Leaning forward, Grissom guided her back to lie against the sheets before closing the last of the distance between them in a chaste yet powerful kiss, the press of his lips against hers a silent promise as eloquent as any spoken vow. Drifting down her body, his hands traced a map across her skin as his lips teased her mercilessly, her body arching almost painfully into his touch. His fingers danced over the sensitive skin on the back of her knee, his lips brushed across the delicate black lace at the edge of her panties before he began slowly, torturously retracing his steps. As he sucked gently on her collarbone, she was able to gain purchase on the waistband of his boxers, anxiously pushing them down to get at the flesh below, her impatience causing a gentle chuckle to rumble through her lover's chest.

Drawing himself up to hover above her, he asked softly, "What's the rush, Sara? We have all day, and all night, and all week, and all month. We have the rest of our lives."

Groaning in frustration, she hooked her legs around his waist to draw him closer, grinding against him shamelessly. "So, what? Just because we have the time, you're going to make me wait?"

As his hips bucked against her of their own accord, he slammed his lips into hers, growling into her mouth as his fingers dipped below the lace.

As the final barrier between them fell away, he pulled back to look into her eyes, wanting to watch her face as he pushed into her for the first time in their new life together.

OoOoOoOoO

With her head resting against his shoulder, her hair damp from exertion, her breath ragged and her muscles weak, Sara gathered all of her energy to breath out a sated, "Wow..." Unable to manage any more, she rolled to her side and kissed his chest softly, twining her legs with his as she waited for her breathing to calm and her strength to return.

As her sigh drifted over his skin, Grissom closed his eyes and embraced the feeling of complete and utter contentment that flooded his veins. Only hours before, whilst Sara had been washing off all remnants of the day under the steaming jets of the hotel shower, he had lay on the very same bed, staring at the very same ceiling, mourning all he had lost. In the new light of morning, as he lay with her in his arms, the promise of a new life ahead of them, his mind was filled with thoughts of all he had gained. Dragging his hand up her back, his fingers tracing the hollows of her spine, he turned his head to the side to press his lips into her forehead. As he felt her melt into his touch, he said quietly, "We should get up soon, you know. We have rubble to sort through."

As she felt the laughter bubble up inside of her, she pulled her hand from his chest to cover her eyes. As he felt her shoulders begin to shake, he moved to prop himself up on his elbows, forcing her head to fall from his shoulder back onto the pillow.

"What are you laughing at?"

His question only adding to her amusement, she dropped her hand from her eyes to smile up at him, her reply coming between bursts of charming giggles.

"I think I might be broken."

"Huh?"

"Well, my house was broken into and all of my things either stolen or destroyed. The investigation into the robbery-slash-vandalism-slash-whatever brings to light rather dramatically a torrid little affair I've been having with my boss – that's you by the way." Winking at him playfully, she wrapped both of her hands around his bicep, yanking his support out from under him and bringing him crashing back down against the downy pillow. Rolling so she was once again pressed against him, she continued. "My boss's boss finds out about the affair and both my lover – again, that's you – and I are forced to resign, and all of our friends desert us."

Cutting in as she took a breath, Grissom said cautiously, his tone reflecting his confusion and anxiety, "Sara, honey, we–"

Bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, she muffled the rest of his sentence with her palm."So, _anyway_, I lose my house and my job and my friends, and I'm lying here in a strange hotel room, with the vast majority of what is left of my belongings in a tiny black bag in the corner, and I am blissfully, supremely, delightfully, _ecstatically_ happy. So, you see, there must be something wrong with me – a design flaw, maybe – because no _normal_ person would react this way. Right?"

As she pulled her hand from his mouth, he turned to look at her looking up at him and couldn't help but burst into laughter. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her against his side and as her body draped over his, he said into her hair, "You are a complete lunatic, you know that?"

Moving quickly up his body to claim his mouth in a mischievous kiss, she pulled back and said lightly, "Yeah, but you love me."

As the flippancy in the air melted away, he brought a hand up to brush a strand of still-damp hair from her face.

"Yeah, I do."

Moving forward to close the gap between them once again, Sara felt his hand come up to cover her mouth as he mimicked her action from moments before. In answer to her silent question, Grissom said simply, "Shower. Food. Rubble."

Reluctantly she moved to the side of the bed, wrapping the bedsheet around her as she stood with an air of false modesty.

"I wouldn't want you to be tempted, what with all the rubble."

The moment she disappeared beyond the bathroom door, he went to follow her, stepping into the shower behind her just as the water began to steam. Forty minutes later, dressed and ready for the day, they left their hotel room hand in hand in search of breakfast, neither one of them noticing the tiny red light flashing on the phone by the bed indicating that they had messages awaiting them at the front desk.

OoOoOoOoO

"I can't take this anymore!"

Moving quickly across the room, Greg laid a wary hand on his friend's shoulder, his aim to calm him down without becoming the object of his wrath. Shrugging his shoulders violently, Nick pushed him away.

"Get off me, man."

Taking a half-step back, Greg was about to snap back when he noticed how Nick had started to cradle his right hand. Before he could ask what had happened, he caught sight of the fine black powder staining his knuckles, transfer from the bench to his right.

"You've probably broken something, you know."

"No, I haven't."

"Nick–"

Flinching as he used his injured hand to wave him off, Nick yelled back, the last of his control quickly melting away, "Just give me a god damn minute, Greg!" Stalking from the room, he barely missed the broken glass littering the floor as he disappeared through the front door. Pacing the too-green grass by the driveway, he struggled to regain control of his emotions, thoughts of storage spaces and moving trucks and 'For Sale' signs crowding his mind.

Inside, Greg finished documenting the damage and labelling the evidence before moving to pack his kit. Just as the metal snaps were pushed into place, he heard Nick clearing his throat behind him. Turning around, he saw the gentle Texan shifting uncomfortably on his feet, his eyes flicking around the room, searching for something that wasn't there to find.

"I'm, uh... I'm sorry, man. It's just, this whole thing, I guess it got the better of me for a minute there, is all."

Standing slowly, Greg nodded his silent acceptance as he lifted his kit from the ground. Moving past him on his way to the truck, he called back over his shoulder, "I finished tagging the last of the evidence, so as soon as you pack your stuff we can go. Shift's over, and I don't know about you but need a drink."

Spinning quickly to follow his young friend's progress with his eyes, Nick felt an overwhelming sense of sadness wash over him as he realised that Grissom and Sara were not the only ones whose lives had changed over the past 36 hours. Each and every one of them had lost something important – a sense of trust, of security, of comfort – and he felt himself mourn. Since the dominos had started falling less than two days ago, Greg had aged beyond his years, his playful spirit tamed by guilt, grief and disillusionment; Warrick had drawn into himself, only speaking when spoken to, protecting himself from further hurt by pulling away from the people that mattered; Catherine had taken over her new responsibilities with zeal, micromanaging every detail of every case in a desperate attempt to make sure nothing went wrong, exhausting herself in the process; and, he had been gripped by momentary bouts of violence, punching bench tops and car doors and plaster walls, kicking car tires and metal lockers and wooden doors. They had each changed since that first phone call, that first revelation, that first realisation that they didn't really know their friends at all, and as the loss settled in his gut, Nick felt his sense of urgency grow.

Quickly gathering his things, he moved out to stand by the car, passing Greg the keys to the Denali through the passenger side window.

"You want me to drive?"

Opening the rear passenger side door, Nick dumped his kit heavily onto the backseat before slamming the door shut again with a sense of purpose.

"Yep, you drive. I'll catch a cab."

Confusion flooding his mind, Greg unbuckled his seat belt and jumped from the truck.

"What?"

Walking down to stand on the curb, pulling his cell from his belt, Nick called back, "Just trust me, Greggo. I'll explain everything later."

As he watched the Denali pull away, Nick prayed that his plan would work. Checking his watch, he brought his cell to his ear, first calling for a cab to come and pick him up from the scene, and then calling the Bellagio hotel, his breath heavy in his chest, his pulse quickening with each ring.

"Bellagio Hotel and Casino. This is Paul speaking. How may I help you?"

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Nick asked to be connected to room 1752, the number burned into his memory from the eternity he spent staring at it the night before, bruising his knuckles on the door and straining his voice as he called to his friends on the other side. As the bland tones of the hotel's hold music swam into his ears, Nick found himself holding his breath, expecting any minute to hear Grissom's voice floating down the line. With a click, the music came to an abrupt end, prompting Nick to quickly rehearse his plea one last time in his head.

"Hello, sir. Are you still there?"

His breath whooshing out in a mixture of disappointment and relief, he muttered quietly, "Yes, I'm still here."

"I'm sorry, sir, but there is no answer at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?"

"No..." The uncertainty of his tone kept the Bellagio clerk from hanging up the phone, allowing Nick the time to think through his request. After a moment, he asked quietly, "Can you tell me if they have picked up the messages left for them last night? There should be five envelopes, each addressed to G. Grissom and S. Sidle."

"One moment." As the time dragged on, Nick saw his cab turn into the street. Waving it down, he opened the back door and slid across the seat, his muscles tight with anticipation.

"Where to?"

Before he could reply, the hold music again clicked off. "Sir? The messages are still being held at the desk. Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

Brimming with barely contained energy, Nick turned to the driver and supplied him with Grissom's address before replying down the line, "No, thank you. You have been very helpful."

The streets whirled past in a muted blur, his thoughts completely focussed on the task at hand. What would he say? What _could_ he say to make them come back?

As the cab pulled into the curb, Nick absent-mindedly passed his money to the driver before climbing out to breath in the fresh morning air. Slowly approaching the townhouse, he passed first Sara's truck and then Grissom's, his nerves humming with the realisation that he had found them. Climbing the front steps, Nick gently pushed the door open, the wood swinging on its hinges without a sound. Stepping inside, his ears were assaulted by a sound he had never heard before. Coming from just around the corner, the room he now knew to be the library, he heard the deep, throaty sound of Grissom laughing. It struck him then that in all the years he had known the entomologist, working with him and for him, seeing him almost every single day, he had never heard him really laugh. This house, that less than two days before had spoken to him of lies and deception, suddenly spoke to him of happiness, joy and contentment. Suddenly, he knew exactly what to say.

Moving across the room, Nick rounded the corner and stood on the threshold of the library. Inside his saw Sara kneeling by an empty shelf, a cardboard box filled with what books could be salvaged by her side. Stepping forward, he turned to see Grissom across the room, his legs stretched out before him, his back resting lazily against the wall.

Neither looked up from their work, and Nick took the opportunity to watch them for a moment. Brass had been right, he decided. They were good together.

His head buried in an old copy of the _Iliad_, Grissom felt the air around him change. Something had shifted and the atmosphere had grown heavy, the easy joy of moments before gone. Lifting his head to check on Sara, he found his eyes met with the sight of Nick Stokes standing only a few yards away. Lost for words, he found himself uttering a stunned, "Nick..." into the silence.

Before Grissom could say anymore, the Texan cut him off with two simple, heartfelt words.

"Come back."

_TBC..._


End file.
